Cúthalion
by feaedhel-celebdae19
Summary: This story is the beginning of the "Warriors of Doriath" trilogy, and follows Beleg Cúthalion throughout his life, through parts of his childhood, and up until his death at the hands of Túrin. {1 "Warriors of Doriath" Trilogy}
1. Introduction

Fire blazed on the top of a hill in Doriath in the middle of the night. The harsh sound of orkish laughter filled the night air, causing the blood of all who heard it to run cold. At least, the blood of all except a small band of marchwardens braved the danger to fight… and to search for survivors. The fight lasted a mere short five minutes as the expert guerrilla fighters nimbly jumped from branch to branch, shooting arrows as they went, while others suddenly seemed to jump out of nowhere, dealing devastating damage with their knives and swords. The orcs were soon dead.

Soon the marchwardens had put out the fire and began their search. They searched for some time without avail. They started to leave, in sadness that no survivors were found, when they heard the sound of someone crying, softly… like a child.

They searched again hope returning as the feverishly looked around. After a few minutes, they finally figured out where the noise was coming from, an old burned down house. They started digging, determined to free the child, trapped inside the smoldering wreak. To their astonishment, a beam had fallen in such a way that it had shielded the child, hidden under a blanket in the rubble.

There was an orkish arrow sticking from it…

They quickly pulled back the blanket, and stared in stunned silence. There were twin infants, a male and female. The boy was pale and unmoving, the tip of the arrow embedded in his shoulder. His sister clung to him, crying quietly. The marchwardens carefully separated the two infants, and the healer who accompanied them worked silently on the injured child. After successfully removing the shaft, and confirming the it wasn't poisoned, she placed the two into a basket which had been fashioned into a makeshift crib. It warmed everyone's hearts to see the tiny survivor place an arm around his sister, as if comforting her or reassuring her that he was alright and everything else would be too.

On their return to Menegroth, they named the girl Alquawen, a name meaning "Swan-maiden" for she was fair, with pale skin, dreamy dark blue eyes, and silvery hair. The boy they named Beleg for the name meant "Mighty" and a child as young as he must be mighty indeed to have encountered an orcish arrow and live.

* * *

**(author's note: Hi everyone, I know this is short but this is only the introduction, the chapters are going to be longer thanks for reading! - feaedhel-celebdae19 )**


	2. 1: Of Horses, Friends, and Enemies

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's work. The OC's are mine. Sorry I forgot to put this in the intro**

**Also, there's going to be a few time lapses in this chapter, & the whole story in general. Happy reading! **

**(& in case anyone's confused, Beleg, Alquawen, Mablung, & Culdôr are around seven-eight years old at the beginning of this chapter.)**

* * *

An elfling quietly padded down the corridor. He stopped in front of a door and listened intently, there wasn't a sound. He groaned. _Of course, she's still asleep! _ He thought to himself, as he opened the door. He walked over to the bed as silently as he could. "Al." he whispered, giving his sister a light shake. "_Alquawen." _Alquawen murmured something unintelligible in her sleep and rolled over. Beleg sighed. There was nothing to do now but wait.

He sat down beside the bed, drumming his fingers against the hardwood floor to keep himself occupied. Patience had never been one of his virtues. The minutes seemed like hours to Beleg as they slowly passed by. One… two… three… Finally, he had enough. Beleg scrambled to his feet, snatched the pillow from underneath his sister's head and smacked her with it.

Thingol awoke to the sounds of yelling and laughter. He allowed himself a small smile as he got out of bed, taking care not to wake Melian. The twins had been his alarm clock everyday without fail. He quickly got dressed, walked over to the door, and opened it a little. Thingol glanced into the hallway, almost screaming with laughter at the comical sight that met his eyes. Beleg was sprinting at full speed, tripping about every five paces or so in his two sizes too big pajamas, with Alquawen hard on his heels, trying to hit her brother with a pillow.

"What's all the commotion about?"a voice asked. The twins immediately stopped what they were doing, and Thingol noticed that Beleg stood at attention, as a soldier would.

"Good morning, Lúthian! " Alquawen chirped brightly as three hundred and five year old Lúthian, princess of Doriath, daughter of Thingol and Melian came into view.

"Good morning to you too, Alquawen. Oh, and good morning to you too, little marchwarden!" Both the twins dissolved into giggles, and walked down the corridor with Lúthian. Thingol felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"They're growing up so quickly." Melian said softly.

"Aye, that they are." Thingol replied with a smile "But at least they're having fun growing, even if it means waking up to their yelling everyday and watching their poor nurse chase them halfway round Doriath in just to get them to take a bath." Melian laughed.

"But you enjoy their company." she pointed out with a smile. Thingol smirked mischievously in return.

"Sometimes."

* * *

"Race you!" Beleg shouted over his shoulder as he darted through town, dodging elves, livestock, and carts filled with produce.

"No fair! You got a head start!" Alquawen yelled back. Beleg just smiled as he sprinted head on towards the fountain. His best friend, Mablung, was sitting on the edge of the fountain, whittling something.

"Late as usual!" Mablung cried out jovially as Beleg slowed to a walk, brushing a few of his silvery blonde locks out of his face.

"I'm not late." Beleg retorted "You're too early." Mablung grumbled something hotly under his breath and stood up, sheathed his carving knife, then placed the knife and wood into his pocket. "Hey..." Beleg commented suddenly "Where's Culdôr? He said he'd be here today."

"Here I am!" a strawberry-blonde elfling called out as he jogged over, slightly out of breath. "Sorry I'm late. Nana had me stay behind for a little while and make the beds while she washed the dishes."

Mablung nodded. "That's a fair reason to be late, but why were you late, Beleg?"

"I'm late, 'cause Al slept in!" Beleg replied loudly as Alquawen walked over.

"At least I don't wake you up by hitting you over the head with a pillow every time you don't get up on time!" Alquawen snapped. Beleg was about to correct his twin, as she _had _buffeted him with pillows on a few occasions, when Mablung chuckled, his grey-blue eyes sparkling with amusement. Soon the others found Mablung's merriment contagious, and were soon joyously struggling to contain their mirth.

"Show me an elfling who hasn't hit their sibling with a pillow, and I'll show you a hypocrite!" Mablung managed to say between gusts of laughter.

"That's true," Culdôr agreed "but let's get to the topic of what we're going to do today."

"Aye." the three other elflings said in unison, much to their own hilarity.

"Well, " Beleg said thoughtfully after their second bout of laughter had subsided. "We went to the archery grounds yesterday to watch the training sessions, and we went to the river the day before that, so, where should we go today?"

"How about the stables?" Alquawen suggested hopefully. She had always had a special bond with the incredible animals. Everyone agreed and soon they were surrounded by the smell, sounds, and sight of the magnificent creatures prancing around in their stalls. They wandered around admiring each steed, particularly Thingol's massive dapple-grey stallion, named Nar-emel, which meant Fire-heart. All the grooms and stable hands said that he was aptly named, as he was fiery and stubborn with everyone except for Thingol. Though, for some reason that none could explain, Nar-emel had seemed to take a liking to Alquawen's gentle nature. Beleg watched in utter astonishment as Nar-emel lowered his head, began sniffing the top of his sister's head and then proceeding to lightly nibble the sleeve of Alquawen's light green tunic. Alquawen giggled as she lightly pushed him away. Culdôr attempted to stroke the stallion's velvety nose, narrowly missing being bit. Once again, the four of them fell into peals of laughter.

"What's so funny, cravens?" a mocking voice said. Immediately, the laughter died on Beleg's lips. They knew that voice all too well. The four of them slowly turned around, not knowing what exactly could happen next. Seregmir, the only son of a noble in Thingol's court, was standing there with a smirk on his face and the six other elflings in Doriath behind him.

"What do _you _want?" Mablung growled. He had always been rather open about his distaste for the elf.

"I want to know why _you _spend time with elflings who are a year younger than you are. Rather childish, isn't it?" Seregmir's friends snickered as Mablung's face went a bright shade of red. Culdôr lightly placed a hand on his friend's arm, in an attempt to calm him.

"Ever thought that the reason he chose us to be his friends is because the only other elflings around his age were the likes of you?" Beleg commented, obviously disgusted with Seregmir's behavior.

"At least we're not orphans." Seregmir snapped, allowing his gaze to linger on the twins as he said it. Had Alquawen not moved quickly to restrain her brother, Beleg would've certainly given Seregmir what he was begging for.

"DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT US LIKE THAT! " Beleg cried out furiously as he tried to lunge forward.

"Stop this Seregmir." Culdôr replied, doing his very best to keep Mablung from punching Seregmir in the face. "Or we'll let 'em loose." Alquawen looked over at him with a scared expression on her face, almost like she was saying "_Is that really a good idea?"_

"Why? Is it because you're too scared to fight us yourself, _dwarf?_" Culdôr could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. Yes, it was true that Culdôr was small for his age, but what he lacked in size, he made up for with normally quiet strength and fierce loyalty. The three boys looked at each other, and then sprinted forward.

* * *

Beleg couldn't explain exactly _why_ he thought back to the stable episode that happened all those years ago, as he now stood with Mablung to his left, and Culdôr to his right, as the three of them faced an unsmiling General. He noticed Mablung wipe away blood trickling from a split lip he had gotten from that fight in the barracks, and Culdôr keeping his left foot slightly off the ground to keep his weight off it. Beleg couldn't help reaching up and gingerly touching the bruise that decorated the area under his right eye.

"Alright." the General's booming voice seemed to fill the whole room. "What happened?"

* * *

**Sorry that this took me so long to write! There will hopefully be more next week! Bye!**


	3. 2: The Bond Between Twins

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's work. The OC's are mine.**

* * *

"What happened? What happened?! Seregmir and his miniature army of half-wits only turned on us in the barracks for absolutely no reason!" Beleg internally yelled at the General. "We did nothing wrong!"

"Seregmir tells me that the three of you ambushed him and his companions at unawares." The General remarked off-handedly. Beleg clenched his teeth to keep himself from screaming in protest at the accusation. The three friends were practically shaking with rage as they were told the rest of Seregmir's untrue, yet cleverly planned out lies.

"But General," the normally quiet Culdôr said earnestly "we never _did _those things to them, they did it to us."

"I never asked for your opinions!" the General fairly shouted as he stood up abruptly. "If Seregmir was ever hurt by one of you (and you're very lucky that he wasn't during that blasted fight!) we'd all pay his father dearly." he stared at each of them in turn. "Go to the infirmary to get yourselves checked out, then you're confined to the barracks for three days." He muttered in a somewhat gentler tone. The Beleg gaped. Confinement to the barracks? For three days? That was almost unimaginable. As far as they knew, no one had been confined before. "You're all dismissed." They nodded numbly before leaving the General's office.

* * *

"Well, _that_ went well. _Real well_." Mablung huffed as they walked towards the infirmary. "I don't understand exactly _what _Seregmir has against us. We haven't done anything to him..._have we?_ " they all thought for a few minutes after that. Why did Seregmir hate them? And for what?

"No… I-I don't think we have." Culdôr murmured thoughtfully.

"Well, even if we did, it was well over two-hundred years ago for Ilúvatar's sake, so why get revenge _now_, for crying out loud?!" Beleg looked down at his feet sheepishly as Mablung and Culdôr gawked, surprised by their friend's sudden outburst. "I mean… we're not children anymore, so why continue fighting now? We're on the same side after all. Why can't we just get over every petty difference we have with each other and try to get along? For ten minutes _at least_?"

"Why would you want to be friends with _him_?" Mablung asked disbelievingly.

"It's not that I want to be friends with him." Beleg said with a sigh. "Believe me, I think he's a complete tyrant just as much as the next elf, but I know that in the one fight against evil, he's on our side."

"What do you mean?" Mablung asked, trying to comprehend his friend's reasoning. Beleg had always been a little out there, saying things that only sounded a little bit like what he meant, but what he meant made sense. Most of the time.

"Look, I know that he's wronged us and probably a few others, but what he's done isn't enough to label him as an accomplice of Morgoth, now is it?" Beleg commented dryly. Mablung still continued to grumble about the whole situation as their way to the infirmary, when Culdôr pulled him aside.

"You know he's right, Mablung." Culdôr reprimanded gently, his hazel eyes shining with that same Culdôr-ish light that Beleg and Mablung could never quite name or even figure out for that matter. "Just because we don't like Seregmir, and Seregmir doesn't like us, doesn't mean that we're enemies." Mablung sighed.

"Of course I realize that _mellon-nín_, but I just can't..." his voice trailed off.

"I get it." Culdôr said with an understanding smile.

* * *

"_Ai Elbereth_! What happened?" Alquawen said with slight panic in her voice as the three young marchwardens entered the infirmary.

"Seregmir." Her brother mumbled under his breath.

"I can't believe the three of you! Can't you stay out of _trasta _for two seconds?!" Alquawen exclaimed as she buzzed around them, trying to get a better look at their injuries.

"No." Culdôr said with a smirk. Alquawen huffed as she guided them to an empty cot.

"Sit down. The three of you." Beleg quietly watched Alquawen flutter around the medicine shelf, muttering about what items she would need. Being much gentler than her brother and two companions, Alquawen had decided to become a healer, instead of becoming a marchwarden like them. Beleg would've smiled fondly at his sister, had the bruising on his face not been as painful as it was. Ever since he and his friends had been old enough to walk, they had wanted to become marchwardens, but Alquawen hadn't known what she wanted in life. Beleg could still remember when she told him that she was going to be a healer, about three days after he had become a cadet.

"_The reason I'm becoming a healer is because I know you're going to need me. I know you too well to trust that you won't get hurt out there." she had told him teasingly._

"_I don't suppose I can deny that." Beleg had replied. Alquawen had laughed. _

"_No." she had said with a giggle. "No you can't."_

Now, they were around two-hundred and eighty-six years of age, and they were all living good lives which were full of happiness, with the exception of occasional run-ins with Seregmir. Beleg was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not notice Alquawen as she carefully checked his friends' ailments until it was his turn.

"The bruise will heal in time. Now, let me see your arm." Beleg felt the blood rushing to his cheeks as Mablung and Culdôr glared at him accusingly.

"_Stupid twin telepathy."_ Beleg mentally cursed. All elves had the ability to telepathically communicate with their siblings and somewhat sense what was going on, even if their sibling was refusing to tell anyone what was happening. Beleg looked up at his sister meekly. He should've known that she'd have a guess on what had gone on in the barracks. Alquawen gave him a dirty look as he reluctantly lifted his left arm.

"The _other_ arm." Alquawen sighed in exasperation. Why was her brother so difficult? Beleg groaned in defeat and extended his right arm to her. Culdôr caught her glance and scooted over so Alquawen could sit beside her _gwanûr_. She lightly placed her hand under Beleg's wrist so that it was resting on top of hers. Alquawen gently patted her brother's arm and wrist. There had to be something wrong with it. There had to be. She had felt that he was in pain, and that he was doing his very best to hide it. She was so distracted by her own thoughts that she didn't realize that she was applying too much pressure.

"_Nuitha_, Alquawen. _Gwathel_, you're hurting me." Startled, Alquawen immediately stopped. She gazed into Beleg's face. It was obvious to her that he was keeping himself from showing that he was in pain, but she could see his pain showing itself in his forest-green eyes. She moved more carefully as she assessed the injury, then bandaged his wrist, careful least she cause him any more pain.

* * *

"So, what should we do?" Mablung asked as he lay back against his cot. It was approximately the fiftieth time he asked this.

"What have I told you? We can't do anything because there's nothing to do!" Culdôr snapped from where he was sitting on his own cot, keeping off his twisted ankle. "Beleg, please help me out here! Mablung's being annoying again!" Beleg didn't seem to notice that his two friends were squabbling. Instead, he was sitting cross-legged on his cot, with a calm, serene look on his features. The two marchwardens shared a glance. Beleg always adopted that facial expression when he was communicating with his sister.

* * *

"_I'm sorry for causing you grief by showing you that I was in pain."_ Alquawen heard her brother's whisper in her head. She sighed sadly. Why was he apologizing for his pain? She had put too much pressure on the injury, causing him to show the pain he was in. That wasn't something he needed to apologize for. She sat up in bed, gazing at the incredible artwork that Varda created in the night sky.

"_No, you need not apologize for that gwanûr. I'm the one to blame for that. I should've paid attention to what I was doing." _she mentally replied. "_And please don't get in another fight. I don't want to get out of bed to go save your skin!"_

"_Don't worry about that gwanunig-nín. I don't want to get in another fight, though I shall be sure to break Seregmir's nose next time I see him, for all the trasta he's caused!" _Alquawen couldn't stop herself from laughing at her brother's comment. "_What?" _her brother teased "_Wouldn't he deserve it gwathel?"_

"_Aye."_ Alquawen agreed. "_Now go to sleep, ere I come over and throw something at you for keeping me awake at this unholy hour! Now, good night!"_ Alquawen wasn't entirely sure , but she could've sworn she had heard Beleg laughing.

* * *

**Hi everyone! (I don't know whether or not elves can telepathically communicate with their siblings, but I thought it would almost deepen the relationship that the twins share ) **

**Sorry this took so long to post! My life's been a bit crazy because we're about to go on winter break, and trying to get ready for Christmas. Hopefully, the next chapter will be up after Christmas. HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYBODY!**

**(elvish translations below :)) **

_Gwathel _= sister

_Gwanûr _= brother

_Mellon-nín _= my friend

_Trasta _= trouble

_Nuitha _= stop

_Gwanunig-nín _= my twin


	4. 3: Peace?

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's work. The OC's are mine. Just to let everyone know, there will be a few new OC's introduced in this chapter. Hope you like them!**

* * *

_One-thousand and four hundred-fifty-six years later…_

* * *

Beleg awoke that morning to a beam of sunshine falling onto his face. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of all the colors that graced the sky on this glorious morn. He silently got out of bed and walked over to the window. He leaned against the windowsill, allowing the early morning breeze to lightly ruffle his hair. As usual, he was up with the sun. For as long as he could remember, he had always arisen as Arien began her journey across the sky.

Beleg gazed out of the window, admiring the view. This small village sprawled out in just in front of him was located just outside the massive citadel of The Thousand Caves where he used to live. Like most elvish settlements in the forest, all the houses had been built up in the trees, away from danger, should anything happen. The only things on the forest ground, were the village square, the training grounds, and the barracks, so the marchwardens could get to a fight quickly.

Beleg allowed himself a small smile as he looked in the general direction of the barracks. He would've been starting target practice by now, if it hadn't been for the fact that the marchwardens were on one of their rare breaks. He had decided to stay with Alquawen during his time off, as she had been pressing him to come over and visit for a while now.

"_Speaking of Alquawen,"_ Beleg thought to himself with a slight smirk "_she probably won't be up and moving until sometime in the afternoon! She has always enjoyed sleeping -"_

_Whack!_

Beleg gave a yelp of utter surprise and shock as he was hit from behind by something… soft? The marchwarden stumbled a few paces from the sheer force of the blow. Whoever had hit him was now snickering over his reaction to the attack. Beleg whirled around. There was Alquawen, still in her nightclothes, and holding onto a pillow.

"Good morning!" She said with a laugh. "I wanted to wake you up this morning as a surprise, but you're already up!"

"I've always been up before you, Al! Quite honestly, I'm surprised that you're even awake at this hour."

"Well, there's a first time for everything! Why don't we get breakfast ready, and then discuss what we're going to do today?" Alquawen said with a smile. Work had gotten in the way of the twins spending time together, and she sadly knew that her _gwanûr's _break was coming to an end, so she was determined to have the best time possible with Beleg. A broad, slightly crooked smile graced Beleg's features. Alquawen suddenly realized how much she had missed seeing that smile. Her brother's smile. To her it was the most beautiful, most wonderful, most _perfect_ thing in the world.

"Aye." Beleg answered, the smile never leaving his face as he reached out, and gave his _gwathel's _arm a gentle squeeze. "Let's do that." Alquawen returned her brother's smile.

"Aye, we shall do that, but first..." Alquawen began.

"We should get out of our nightclothes, and into proper attire!" Both twins finished in unison.

* * *

Beleg strode into the kitchen, lured by the smells of warm scones, jam, and fresh-cut fruit. Alquawen was already there when he arrived, and she was removing a batch of fresh scones from the oven.

"Good morning! Again." Alquawen greeted him with a playful smile. She could feel her heart soaring with the familiar feeling of love that the twins often sent to each other through their bond. Beleg gave his sister a smile. Whenever he was feeling down, he could always trust that his _gwanunig's _high spirits would pull him back to his feet.

"Good morning again to you too, Al." Alquawen flashed her brother a grin, and then grabbed one of the scones off the tray she was holding.

"Catch!" she cried out as the scone went flying through the air. Beleg caught the scone deftly, but then quickly deposited it on a nearby plate.

"Next time you throw a scone at me, make sure it's cooled down first!" Beleg exclaimed as he checked his hands for burns.

"And I thought marchwardens were supposed to be tough." Alquawen said sarcastically, in a teasing tone.

"Aye, we are. Except when it comes to scalding hot scones." Alquawen couldn't help laughing at her brother's comment. Both twins leaned against the wall, eating their breakfast in silence. Beleg knew that most _ellith_ would be horrified by the lack of manners, if they had guests or family members eating in their kitchens while standing. His _gwathel's_ kitchen on the other hand… well, manners didn't matter under certain circumstances.

Suddenly, the sound of the front door swinging open and slamming shut with a terrible amount of force reached their ears, and then, the sound of someone running, no, sprinting through the house. Almost out of thin air, Culdôr came flying into the kitchen, nearly tripping over a chair as he raced towards them.

"Culdôr! What in Arda is going on?" Beleg yelped as he caught his friend.

"Beleg, we have to go! The troop is moving out in five minutes!" Culdôr exclaimed breathlessly as he gathered himself.

"_What?!_" Alquawen cried before Culdôr could give an explanation. "You're all on break! Why do you need to go?"

"Nargothrond." Culdôr said grimly. Alquawen noticed that her brother's demeanor suddenly changed as soon as those words came out of Culdôr's mouth. Ever since Lúthian refused a marriage proposal from one of the lords of Nargothrond, tenisons had grown between Doriath and Nargothrond. Although neither side had attacked the other, both sides were ready to defend their own.

"What about Nargothrond?" Beleg asked.

"A message came from Finrod Felagund early this morning, stating that he would like to have a conference with Thingol about peace terms and other such matters."

"What reasons do we have to doubt Felagund's words? He has always been the one to prefer making peace rather than fighting." Beleg pointed out.

"I know, but Thingol said that he wasn't going to take any chances, now come on!"

* * *

_In West Beleriand…_

* * *

A Nargothrondian sat high in the treetops about three miles outside of Nargothrond. He lay back lazily as he listened to the birds singing in the branches. Although elves normally prefered to be among their own, he didn't mind the solidarity. Besides, he was under self-imposed exile, and was an outcast even before he ran away about a year ago. It was better this way. No one pointed, no one stared (except for inquisitive wildlife, of course), no one spoke behind his back, and, no one beat him. And he was determined that no one ever would again. Ever.

"And, " he muttered quietly to himself, "I don't have to listen to others gossiping about how they think I 'might be inhabited by a demon of Morgoth.'" Yes, it was true that he was better with a sword then most _ellyn_ twice his age, and that his eyes were strange, but did that really qualify him as "possibly inhabited by a demon"?

The Nargothrondian certainly was an odd looking _ellon_. Jet black hair framed his pale face, which only made his dark eyes stand out more. At first glance, one would've probably thought that his eyes were black, but when you looked at them from and angle, you would discover that they were actually an extremely dark shade of violet. He always wore dark clothing, as it helped him blend in with the trees, and his only weapons were his sword, and a dagger hidden in his boot. Luckily, he hadn't had to use either to defend himself since he had run off.

"Hopefully, that means that Erynaur hasn't even bothered to come after me." he thought to himself with grim satisfaction. Suddenly, he pulled out of his reverie by what sounded like a rather large number of people walking on the forest floor. He listened intently. The footsteps fell too heavily to be elves. Much to heavily. The Nargothrondian army-crawled to the edge of the branch he had been using as a perch.

"_Edain_?" he whispered to himself as he watched the men marching through the forest. This did not bode well. Men normally didn't enter the forest. At least, not in numbers as great as this. He estimated that there were three-hundred of them. At least. He silently picked himself up, and began following them through the trees, going completely unnoticed by his quarry.

* * *

_On the road to Nargothrond…_

* * *

Beleg rode in between Mablung and Culdôr, thinking to himself. The General rode directly in front of them, his _ion_, Callon, sitting behind him in the saddle. The presence of a child was a sign that the _Iathrim_ came in peace.

Beleg smiled quietly to himself. General Daecrist was the very General who had confined them to the barracks all those years ago. At first, Beleg, Mablung, and Culdôr had despised him, and Daecrist felt the same way about them, until about five months ago, when the troop had been ambushed by orcs. Daecrist and his lieutenant had been cornered, when Beleg and his friends came barreling through to help defeat the enemies. Things had been much different between them and the General after that. Beleg was soon pulled out of his thoughts by the elfling's voice.

"Ada? Ada? Why are we going to Nargothrond? Why are we traveling with the army instead of with Nana like we normally do when we go places, Ada?" Daecrist didn't know how to answer his child's questions. Beleg quickly decided to give his superior a hand, and rode out of line so he was alongside Daecrist.

"Well, _penneth,_ you know how you were talking about becoming a marchwarden one day?" Callon nodded. "Well," Beleg continued, slightly unsure of where this was going. "marchwardens need to travel a lot, so this is just a way of trying to help you get used to it." Callon thought about it for awhile, before his entire face lit up in a smile.

"That makes sense! Ada said I'd make a good marchwarden one day! Right, Ada?"

"Aye." Daecrist agreed as he flashed Beleg a grateful smile. "You will be!" A higher ranking General suddenly called Daecrist over. Callon held on to his Adar tightly as they rode forward. Culdôr and Mablung rode up to their friend.

"Daecrist doesn't seem too happy about the fact that Callon is the peace sign." Culdôr observed.

"Aye." Beleg agreed solemnly, before looking in Mablung's direction "Daecrist wouldn't have volunteered Callon for this mission. Mablung, you were there. What happened?"

"Someone ratted Daecrist out." Mablung spat out, suddenly becoming rather fired up over the incident.

"Probably by another parent trying to keep their child from going." Culdôr mused thoughtfully. Mablung nodded.

"That's what I think as well. Apparently, the higher ranking Generals didn't even know that Daecrist had a child."

"Daecrist must've done a rather good job of protecting Callon if they didn't know till now. After all, Callon is nearly six years old." Beleg murmured quietly.

"Then that means that Daecrist is a good parent because he's supporting Callon's decision to become a marchwarden, but he's also making sure that Callon can enjoy his childhood without being troubled by the things that happen in the army. " Culdôr said firmly. "Now let's stop talking about this, because it's just making me feel terrible for both of them." The three were quiet for some time when the peace and quiet was suddenly interrupted by a battle-cry.

Daecrist looked around, startled by the sudden commotion.

"Ada, what's wrong?" Callon whimpered, clinging to his father tightly.

"I'm not sure..." Daecrist muttered quietly. He hated lying to his child. Daecrist knew very well what was going on, but he stubbornly refused to frighten his son. He glanced over his shoulder. The higher ranking Generals were already talking amongst themselves, trying to formulate a possible battle tactic, and decide who should scout the area.

_Edain_ suddenly exploded out of the dense foliage without warning. Callon opened his mouth to scream, as his father's horse reared, frightened by the sudden attack. Daecrist did all he could to keep himself and his son from falling off the terrified animal when one of the enemies shot an arrow towards them. Callon tumbled of the horse as it fell to the ground, stone dead.

A sharp cry of pain suddenly burst for Daecrist's lips, mingling with the sickening sound of breaking bone, as the horse fell on top of it's master's leg. Dizzy, the General tried to free himself from the heavy animal's crushing weight, only to cause himself more pain.

"ADA!" Daecrist looked around. He knew that voice. Callon raced over to his father, sobbing for breath.

"Ada! Ada are you alright?!" the elfling anxiously exclaimed in horror as he firmly glued himself to Daecrist.

"Callon, you need to get out of here." Daecrist said quickly as he warily glanced at the approaching _edain._

"No. Ada, I'm staying with you!" Callon cried.

"_Saes, _Callon. _Saes._" Daecrist plead quietly as he gripped his child's hand gently. Callon's eyes began to brim with tears, but he obeyed his father's request. Daecrist silently watched his son run towards where the other Generals stood, shouting orders to the soldiers.

Daecrist gripped his bow tightly, and drew an arrow. Although injured, and unable to stand, he was not about to go down without a fight.

* * *

**Hope everyone liked this chapter! Sorry that I haven't updated this in a while, this chapter took a long time to write. Also, I recently posted another story called The Last Cúthalion if any one wants to read it. (No, it does not tie into this story.)**

**(Elvish translations below :))**

_Gwanûr_ = Brother

_Gwathel_ = Sister

_Gwanunig _= twin

_Ellith_ = Elf (female ; plural)

_Ellyn_ = Elf (male ; plural)

_Ellon_ = Elf (male ; singular)

_Edain_ = Men

_Ion_ = Son

_Iathrim_ = People of Doriath

_Ada_ = Dad/Daddy

_Nana_ = Mom/Mommy

_Adar_ = Father

_Penneth_ = Young one

_Saes_ = Please


	5. 4: Betrayal

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's work. The OC's are mine**

* * *

Culdôr didn't know what happened. One minute, he was sitting astride his horse. The next, he was flat on his back with a _adan_ on top of him. He faintly heard Mablung and Beleg shout his name as he wrestled with his opponent. Suddenly, the _adan_ had managed to stun him with one deft movement, and pin him to the ground.

"Time to die, elven-scum." the _adan _hissed almost cheerfully with a slightly insane smile plastered on his face as he drew a rusty knife from its sheath. Culdôr tensed, preparing himself for the feeling of the knife burying itself into his flesh, when there was a sharp twang, a hiss, and the _adan _slumped over him. Dead.

Culdôr looked down at the dead man, stunned.

"I killed him." Beleg said. Culdôr and Mablung noticed that their friend's voice was strained. "Sweet Estë, I just killed him in cold blood..." Beleg whispered again as he looked down at his bow with a mixture of grief, surprise, horror, and guilt showing in his face and eyes. Mablung quietly reached over and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I understand how you feel Beleg, but that _adan_ would've killed Culdôr for sure, had you not shot him. And if he had lived… who knows how many more innocent lives he would take? You did the right thing. Even though you did what you did out of anger, you did the right thing."

"Beleg, as much as I hate killing and death, I have to agree with Mablung." Culdôr said softly as he stood up. "He could've, no, would've killed others had you not intervened." Beleg was about to reply when another _adan_ suddenly charged them, only to meet his demise at the end of Mablung's spear.

"Well," Mablung muttered as he gazed briefly at the fallen _adan_ "let's stop talking and get fighting, shall we?"

* * *

One of the Generals, an _ellon_ named Amlug, reached down and pulled Callon up, so he sat behind him in the saddle. Suddenly, Callon felt someone grab the back of his shirt with an iron grip. Seconds later, he found himself on the ground, with a throbbing head. He watched in terror as the _adan_ who pulled him off the horse violently attacked Amlug.

"RUN!" the General shouted at him seconds before the _adan_ stabbed him. Callon yelped as Amlug fell off the horse, the light fading from his eyes. Callon quickly sprinted away, as fast as his legs could carry him.

* * *

The Nargothrondian darted through the trees as fast as he could go.

"Of all the blasted times to trip, and fall out of a tree!" he cursed aloud. Although no one had seen him fall, or heard his comment, he still blushed to the tips of his ears out of embarrassment. Suddenly, he heard what sounded like _edain_ yelling and running. He put on an extra burst of speed. He wasn't sure why the _edain_ were here, or why they were suddenly yelling, but he knew that he could safely bet his sword that they were up to no good.

Suddenly, a cry of dismay that did not sound anything like a human reached his ears. It sounded like… a child? He ran faster, his heart beating wildly as he looked around for the youngster.

"Dear Eru, what in Arda is a child doing in this mess!?" he groaned. Soon, he was out of breath from running. But he didn't stop. He had to help the child, he just had to. Not for glory, nor redemption. Just to keep the child safe. He kept looking.

Then, he caught sight of the child, and his breath froze in his lungs at the scene. It was an elfling. Not even seven summers old. The elfling was backed up against a tree, surrounded by five _edain. _The Nargothrondian could feel his anger rising. What had the child done to deserve the fate which the _edain_ had planned for him? Without even thinking first, the Nargothrondian ran forward, and jumped…

* * *

Callon was terrified. He was cornered, and judging by how things looked now… there would be no escape for him. The _adan_ in front of him drew a short sword. Callon was trembling in fear now. The man gave him a smile of mock sympathy.

"Tell me, elf-brat," the man's voice sounded like metal against stone to Callon's ears. "What does cold steel feel like?" Callon cowered backward as far as he could, as the man raised his sword. Callon closed his eyes, wishing himself far away, back home in Doriath. He briefly wondered if he'd ever see home again. His eyes snapped open as he desperately tried to get one last glimpse of the world, when something dark blurred his vision.

The Nargothrondian landed on his feet, directly in front of the elfling. The elfling watched with wide eyes as the _ellon_ caught the descending sword on his own, and then slit the _adan's_ throat in one movement, as fast as lightning.

"Climb the tree." the Nargothrondian said calmly, but his tone made it obvious that it was not a request. Callon obeyed quickly, and quietly. He knew not what the Nargothrondian would do, but he knew that it would be best if he were not involved.

"So," the Nargothrondian said as the _edain_ looked down at their fallen comrade. "Who's next?" the _edain_ looked at each other. "Oh, come on!" the Nargothrondian said in a mocking tone. "If you can take on an elfling, then surely, you can take on a fully grown and armed elf." the _edain _looked stunned for a moment, and then their fury began to show in their eyes and faces.

All the _edain_ charged, except one. He hung back, and hid in the surrounding foliage. He watched in horrified fascination as the elf suddenly seemed to turn into a whirlwind with a blade, as agile and nimble as a dancer, but with a dangerous edge, striking down the _adan_'s comrades left and right. The _adan_ quickly shook himself out of his trance. If he didn't act now, his comrades would be as good as dead. He selected an arrow and loaded it into his crossbow...

Callon watched the Nargothrondian spinning, slashing, ducking, and kicking, with a furious energy that he had seen before when his father had allowed him to watch sparring matches between the soldiers. He watched silently, trying to identify the elf. He knew most of the elves in the army by name, as he had met some of them personally. But for some reason… this elf was a complete and total stranger to him. For an elfling, Callon was rather observant. He noticed that the Nargothrondian had a slightly different fighting style than the marchwardens of Doriath. Secondly, he noticed that this _ellon_ was also left-hand dominant. Although a left-handed elf was not unheard of, it was rare.

Callon's sensitive hearing suddenly picked up a familiar sound. One that he had only heard at the archery grounds…

The Nargothrondian fell back with a sharp cry as an arrow embedded itself in his right shoulder. He staggered back up and continued fighting. The arrow had taken out his shield arm. He quickly made up his mind that whoever shot him was as dumb as dirt. He wasn't even using a shield, so taking out his shield arm would do them no good!

* * *

The noise of battle filled Beleg's ears, almost making it impossible to concentrate on aiming. Yet, he knew that some noises that blended in with the horrendous din were important. Some of the younger marchwardens watched silently in admiration as he fired arrow after arrow, each one finding its mark. It was no secret that Beleg was one of the best archers Doriath had ever had.

To the _edain_ however, the archer appeared to be a blur of silvery-blonde, forest-green, and a brown earthen color, as he spun around in a full warrior's trance, firing arrows at a rapid pace. The _edain_ commander, Algar, pulled his second-in-command, Dúnmod,aside.

"We need to take that one out." he hissed into the younger man's ear "Ere he kills the lot of us!" the second-in-command nodded slowly as he watched the elf take out three more _edain_ in a single go. His superior was right. The elf was dangerous, and if they didn't kill him now, he would only become more dangerous in the years to come.

"Aye." Dúnmod said. "You're right." with one swift movement, he stabbed the commander with Algar's own blade. Dúnmod smirked as he watched Algar gasping for breath as he slowly bled to death. He bent down as Algar shot him a hate-laden glare. "I once heard you say the same thing about me." he whispered into his ex-superior's ear. "Looks like you were right. I indeed have become dangerous." and with that he left.

* * *

A cry of dismay that Beleg knew all too well suddenly rent the air.

"_Mablung!"_ Beleg shouted, as fear for his friend suddenly began to build up in his chest.

"My spear broke!" Mablung shouted back as he punched an _edain_ that got too close for comfort. Although Beleg kept his composure on the outside, he was internally panicking. Mablung was the only spear-fighter in the troop, thus meaning, no one would have an extra spear. Without a weapon, his friend was a sitting duck! Beleg fired arrows like there was no tomorrow in order to protect his friend, as he racked his mind for a solution. Suddenly, something clicked. Mablung used to do archery before he had discovered the wonders of the spear. But then Beleg found himself at yet another dead end. He didn't have a spare bow to give Mablung. He spun around and shot another _edain_ sneaking up on Mablung, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye…

A yew tree. A black yew tree. The branches curved upward, pointing straight to the sky. It looked dead, as no leaves adorned the branches. And one particular branch was shaped almost exactly like a bow. But… in order to retrieve it… he'd need to leave Mablung.

"I'll be right back!" Beleg shouted over his shoulder as he took the risk.

"_What!? Beleg you'll get yourself killed!_" Mablung practically screamed at his friend, as Beleg raced off, praying that his friend would be alright. All marchwardens were required to learn unarmed combat as part of their training. Hopefully, Mablung would put it to good use.

Beleg sprinted as fast as he could towards the tree, ducking and dodging swords and flying projectiles. Although he moved quickly, he was not quick enough to avoid a cut to his arm…

* * *

Alquawen gasped sharply, and quickly placed a protective hand over her upper arm. After a few seconds, she pulled her hand away. There was no blood, not even a mark. What had happened? The answer suddenly hit her like a thunderbolt.

"Elbereth..." she whispered quietly to herself, as realization washed over her. Beleg. Something had happened to Beleg. They had always been able to feel each other's pain. Most would consider it a curse, but Alquawen considered it a blessing. She always knew when her brother needed help.

"Alquawen?" a small voice asked. Alquawen wheeled around. A young, strawberry blonde _elleth_ stood in front of her. Maewen shyly shuffled her feet. She was only one-hundred and fifty-five, the youngest apprentice they'd ever had. But she was wise for her age.

"_Just like her brother."_ Alquawen thought to herself. "Yes Maewen?" she replied.

"Do you feel it too?" she asked. Alquawen sighed worriedly.

"Aye. I feel it." she answered grimly. "Is your brother alright?" Maewen shrugged.

"I don't know. I think Culdôr's alright, but I don't know. I'll try messaging him again" Maewen sat down on the floor, putting all her concentration into getting to her _gwanûr._ Alquawen nervously tried to do the same.

"_Beleg! Beleg, what's going on? Please respond to me! Saes!"_

No response. Alquawen began to panic. Beleg always responded. Something was wrong. Something was so, so wrong.

* * *

Culdôr ducked, dodging a sword that would've taken off his head had he not ducked in time. He leapt back up, slitting the _adan's_ throat in one fluid movement, when he heard a quiet voice in the back of his mind.

"_Culdôr! Are you alright? Saes Culdôr, I'm worried about you!"_ Culdôr started to run to the safety of a nearby tree, where he would be able to communicate with Maewen _without_ worrying about being killed. At least for a few short minutes. After his mother had died in childbirth with Maewen, Culdôr had felt responsible for taking care of her. And now, the least he could do was keep her from worrying about him.

"_Don't worry about me, Maewen. I'm-"_ a stray slingstone suddenly collided with his chest, bringing him to his knees, and chasing his breath away.

* * *

Alquawen yelped in horror as Maewen doubled over in pain.

"_Culdôr! What's going on!?"_

* * *

Culdôr scrambled to his feet, and resumed fighting.

"_I'm fine Maewen! Don't worry about me. I'll come home. I promise."_ Culdôr didn't want to admit that there was a chance that he would not return, but he had made a promise to Maewen.

He would not die.

* * *

Dúnmod walked over to Algar's troops. No, his troops now. A malicious grin slowly spread across his face as he went over his cunning plan one more time. He quickly put on a sad face, and wiped some of the blood from Algar's blade on his tunic, before taking a deep breath and climbing up onto a large rock overlooking the troop. Algar's men looked up at him in confusion.

"Algar was killed." Dúnmod said as bluntly as possible as he looked down on the men. "I'm leading you now." the men slowly nodded. "We're changing the method of attack, and setting our eyes on a new goal." all the men except one looked up with interest. His name was Éadgel. He had joined this mission in hopes of getting something out of it to support his family, which was falling apart. He was only seventeen, but he was willing to take on the task. For his mother's sake, and for his little brother.

His father had died in an ambush years ago, leaving him to take care of everyone, and he was not about to give up that mission. He suddenly realized that he had missed Dúnmod's entire speech. Not that he cared. He always had a feeling that Dúnmod was never up to any good. And now… he was sure of it, after seeing Dúnmod wipe blood on his tunic with a blade. _Algar's_ blade. Unfortunately, he had a guess about what happened to Algar.

"You're all dismissed." Dúnmod said to the men after concluding his speech. As the crowd dispersed, he noticed a young man, leaning against a tree, frowning at the ground as he stood there, deep in thought. What was his name again? Éoheort? Eódig? Erkendor? Éadgel? Yes, Éadgel, that was it. He had seen the youngster in battle, he was a good fighter. Good enough that Dúnmod could not afford to lose him, if he wanted his plan to work. He walked over, once to two of them were alone in the clearing.. Éadgel didn't even look up.

"What's the matter?" Dúnmod asked, the words slipping smoothly on his tongue. He was well trained in manipulation.

"This isn't right." Éadgel muttered.

"What's that you just said?" Dúnmod asked, his voice dripping with venom.

"I said this isn't right!" Éadgel said boldly as he looked into Dúnmod's eyes. "It never was!"

"What isn't right?" Dúnmod questioned. He needed Éadgel on his side. And he would have Éadgel on his side. Even if it meant he had to use force.

"Oh, I don't know," Éadgel replied with equal coolness in his voice. "maybe the fact that I saw you wipe blood on yourself with _Algar's_ blade?"

"I don't know what you're hinting at, Éadgel." Dúnmod was inwardly starting to panic. This was starting to become dangerous. If Éadgel exposed him, the troop would turn on him to avenge their fallen leader.

"That blood was too dark to be elf blood. And there are no orcs in this battle." Dúnmod suddenly had Éadgel by the throat, pressing him up against the rough bark of the tree to the point that it hurt. He pulled out Algar's knife and rested the point of the blade on Éadgel's exposed throat.

"It'll be your blood that stains this knife next, if you don't keep your mouth shut."

"As if that matters? I'm of no importance to you."

"You're right." Dúnmod said with a wicked grin. "You aren't, put I know who's of importance to you." Éadgel's eyes darkened as he realized what he was talking about. "I know why you're here Éadgel. So, it won't be your blood. It'll be your mother's, and your brother's, and isn't there a _girl_ in your village that you care about? If you don't keep your mouth shut, I will make you watch as I kill those you care about, and then I will kill you. And I will make sure that your death is slow, so you have time to reflect on your mistake, that those you love had to pay for." Dúnmod nearly dropped his knife in surprise as Éadgel suddenly lurched forward, pressing himself further into the knife.

"If you so much as come within a hundred _leagues_ of my village, I will kill you." Éadgel hissed as he struggled against Dúnmod's hold. Dúnmod gave the young ranger a smile. He had won.

"Well, if you don't want bloodshed, then keep your mouth shut."

* * *

**Sorry that I haven't posted in so long, having dealt with some major writer's block. Hope you all enjoyed it!**

**(Elvish translations below :))**

_Adan _= Man

_Edain_ = Men

_Ellon _= Elf (male ; singular)

_Elleth _ = Elf (female ; singular)

_Gwanûr _= Brother

_Saes _= Please


	6. 5: The Black Yew Bow

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's work. The OC's are mine.**

**Stumbles over, gasping for breath, and holding several pieces of paper.**

"**F-finished!" collapses in exhaustion**

**Enjoy!**

**(**_**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER HAS SOME CUSSING IN IT. {DON'T WORRY, IT'S NOTHING MAJOR}**_**) **

**(another warning: this is the longest chapter I've ever written, so it may take y'all a while {to be exact, it's 15,996 words and 60 pages long according to google docs... it seems that my writing has become rather excessive... I'm not sure whether I should be excited or concerned... meh. I choose excited!})**

* * *

After a few tries, Beleg finally managed to snap the branch off the tree. He raced back over to Mablung, tying a spare bowstring he happened to have in his pocket to the makeshift bow as he went.

"_MABLUNG!"_ Mablung wheeled around as he heard someone frantically shout his name, only to be nearly body-slammed by his friend. Before he could say anything however, Beleg shoved a bow into his hands.

"Use this!" Beleg said quickly before resuming his "target practice". Mablung looked at the black yew bow skeptically. He was supposed to use _this_?

"_Better than nothing."_ Mablung told himself as he picked up a quiver that had belonged to a fallen _adan_. Although he removed the quiver respectfully, he still felt terrible about taking something off a dead man. He nocked an arrow in the bow and started to pull back the string…

Nothing happened.

Mablung pulled as hard as he could, but he could not pull back the string.

"_Beleg!_ How tightly did you tie the bowstring?!" Mablung shouted as he tried pulling even harder. Beleg looked back at his friend, confused. He had only tied the bowstring as tightly as the bowstring on his own bow, although Mablung was stronger than he was. Why wasn't he able to pull it back?

There was only one other thing he could do now to help his friend, but it meant putting himself in harm's way to protect another life. Another life he cared about. He knew the risk he had to take, but was he afraid to take it? Beleg wasn't sure if he was afraid to carry on with this, however, there was no time to second guess himself.

"Here!" he said as he shoved his own bow into Mablung's hands, and then ran, for some reason though, he took the unusable bow with him. He didn't know why, but for some reason, it spoke to him.

"_Beleg! Have you gone mad?! You'll get yourself killed!" _Mablung yelled at the top of his lungs as he attempted to run after his friend, before an _adan_ attacked him from behind, forcing him to fight for his life, rather than go after his comrade, no, more than a comrade, his friend, no, his _best_ friend, no, even more than that, his _brother_.

"Don't worry about me Mablung, just keep yourself alive!" Beleg whispered to himself as he ran, picking up a fallen sword as he went, and continued his fight.

Mablung looked around for Beleg frantically once he had finished with the _adan_. He cursed under his breath once he discovered that he could no longer see Beleg, Culdôr, Daecrist, or Callon. Right now, he could only pray that they'd be alright.

* * *

The Nargothrondian spun round, deflecting a knife that had been thrown at him, as he did his very best to ignore the arrow sticking out of his shoulder. It wasn't the pain that was bothering him. The adrenaline coursing through his body took care of that. It was the fact that it was restricting his movement, and partially blocking his view. The _edain_ backed up for a few minutes, pausing to catch their breath and to quickly check themselves over for injuries, giving the Nargothrondian the time he needed to do the same. Instead of removing the arrow however, he snapped it in half, allowing him to see clearly out of the corner of his eye, but at the same time, preventing him from bleeding out.

He glanced up into the tree. The elfling was still there, looking down at him with frightened eyes. The Nargothrondian gave the child a slight nod, and his best attempt at an encouraging smile. He wasn't sure if he actually _smiled_. He had never done much smiling in his life. The elfling, however, seemed to grow less afraid, and gave the Nargothrondian a tiny smile of his own. The Nargothrondian bent down, and pulled his dagger out of his boot. He grit his teeth in pain as he began to slowly climb the tree. Now that the adrenaline was leaving his body, the arrow wound was starting to hurt like hellfire. When he reached the top of the tree however, the elfling backed up in terror.

"Hey, it's alright _penneth._ I promise you, it's alright." The Nargothrondian said softly, holding up his hands in a peaceful gesture. The elfling stopped backing up, but still looked at the Nargothrondian in fear.

"So… you're not going to hurt me?" the Nargothrondian was stunned.

"Of course not! Why would I?"

"Because you have a drawn knife and sword with you." the Nargothrondian sighed in exasperation.

"Actually, the only reason I took my knife out in the first place was to give it to you." the Nargothrondian replied quietly as he held the knife by the blade as he passed it to the elfling. Callon was shocked. The Nargothrondian was _giving_ him a knife?

"Wow… thanks!" Callon beamed. Not because he was getting a weapon, no, because the Nargothrondian was _trusting_ him with a weapon. The Nargothrondian chuckled as he watched the elfling carefully examine the blade. He remembered another elfling, long ago, having the same reaction as he found the same knife abandoned on the side of the road. That elfling carried that blade this morning as he sat in a tree, without a care in the world.

"Your welcome, but that's not a toy. Remember that. Only use it if you have to."

"Yes sir! Don't worry, you can count on me! By the way, my name's Callon, son of Daecrist and Eleithel. What's your name?" Callon rambled in his excitement. The Nargothrondian was about to answer, when he suddenly flattened Callon to the branch, bodily shielding him.

"Hey! What-" Callon suddenly noticed an arrow quivering in the tree branch behind them.

"Come down here and fight you coward! Or we'll put a shaft through that littlun's skull!" one of the _edain _shouted as the other one laughed. Another two lay dead on the ground. Wait, there had been _five_ of them. Where was the other? The Nargothrondian looked around with uncertainty. Wait, neither of the two living _edain_ that he could see were archers, thus meaning, the third _adan_ was an archer and was hiding.

"_Stay down, and if you need to run, run through the trees."_ the Nargothrondian whispered to Callon as he began to climb down from their perch.

"Please be careful, sir." Callon gulped as he watched the Nargothrondian walk towards his opponents, sword drawn, slowly preparing himself to fight. The _edain_ rushed at him, before he really had a chance to fully prepare himself for battle. Callon couldn't wait up there and do nothing. He had to do something. He just _had _to. He looked down at the gleaming knife in his hands. _Only use it if you have to._ The Nargothrondian's words echoed inside his head. Now was the time to use it.

The Nargothrondian lay flat on his back, with two sword points resting against his chest, threatening. Suddenly, there was a cry from above, and a very familiar knife was suddenly buried up to the hilt in one of the _edain's_ throat. He fell backward without a sound. The remaining _adan_ stood there in shock, giving the Nargothrondian enough time to get up. In an instant, he was on his feet, and the man was lying on the ground, his eyes looking up blankly at the sky.

The archer looked at the sight in horror, wondering if anything could take down this elf. Suddenly, something clicked in his mind and he began searching through his quiver. There was something in there that could help him. Ah, there it was. He loaded a particular arrow into his crossbow, and once again aimed at the elf.

The Nargothrondian collapsed with an agonized yell that didn't sound like him, when searing pain suddenly shot through his left leg. He had been hit by another arrow. How could he have been stupid enough to forget about the archer?! He had been hit by arrows before, but for some reason, this kind of pain was completely new to him. This arrow was different. He painstakingly reached down to his left calf, grabbed the shaft, and gave it a light tug. He gasped as black spots danced in front of his vision.

"_It's barbed. Valar curse it, it's barbed!"_ the voice inside his head screamed at him as the pain increased.

Callon watched in fear as the archer slowly made his way towards the fallen swordsman. He had no weapon now. He could not help his new friend.

The Nargothrondian grimaced as he pulled himself up onto an elbow. He wasn't going to the Halls of Mandos like this. He would go down fighting, no matter how much pain it caused him, he would _not_ die this way. Suddenly, a hard blow to his side chased his breath away.

"Stop that! Leave him alone!" a shout came from the trees above. The _adan_ rolled his eyes, loaded his crossbow, and pointed it in the direction of the voice. Callon gave a yelp and promptly flattened himself against the tree, out of harm's way. The last thing he wanted to tell his parents was that he'd been impaled by an arrow. But that dratted _adan_ had just _kicked_ his friend! Why did he have to kick his _mellon_ when he was already down?

"Try that again, and I'll kill you." the Nargothrondian rasped once he had recovered his breath. The _adan_ looked down at him in amusement. "I mean it _mellon-nín_. If you so much as harm a _hair_ on that child's head, I _will_ kill you, even if I have to do it with my bare hands, I will kill you." the _adan_ couldn't help but shudder as the elf's voice grew dangerously soft.

"As if you'll be able to get up to do so, elf!" the _adan_ laughed cruelly, trying to sound braver than he felt. He took a few steps back, and loaded another arrow into his crossbow.

The Nargothrondian reached for his fallen sword, he could almost reach it, just barely. His fingertips brushed against the pommel of his sword. Just a little farther, and he would be able to grab the hilt.

The _adan_ was about to pull the trigger, when something small and hard bounced off the top of his head. An acorn lay innocently on the ground.

"Ha ha, dumb ol' boulder brains! You wouldn't recognize a good archer, like my Ada or Beleg, even if one fell on your fat head!"

That blasted elfling!

The _adan_ fired an arrow up into the tree. The Nargothrondian's heart stopped beating.

"_Callon…" _

"Well, elf. That's your little friend taken care of. Now, it's your turn." the Nargothrondian could feel his eyes slowly beginning to fill with tears. Valar, why? Why take one at such a young age? The _adan_ could kill him for all he cared. He had failed Callon.

The _adan_ aimed at the Nargothrondian with a sinister grin. Finally, he could kill the bloody elf that had caused them so much trouble.

_Whack!_

A rather large stick came flying out of nowhere, and struck the _adan's_ shoulder. He instinctively pulled the trigger… and missed his target entirely. The Nargothrondian's face lit up in a relieved smile. Callon was alright!

"Boy, you _are_ a terrible archer. Here's that arrow that 'took care of me'!" Callon was in plain view now, standing on a tree branch high above their heads, waving an arrow triumphantly in the air. The Nargothrondian couldn't help snickering slightly as he watched the _adan's _face turn a terrific shade of red at Callon's cheeky antics. He'd have to congratulate the elfling later. For an elfling, Callon had picked up the skill of tree jumping quickly, for which the Nargothrondian was incredibly grateful.

"I'VE HAD IT WITH THE TWO OF YOU!" the _adan_ practically screamed in frustration as he reloaded his crossbow, and aimed at the Nargothrondian once more. The Nargothrondian reached desperately for his sword. Almost there. He could almost reach it!

A deadly hiss filled the air, followed by a metallic _ping_ as the arrow ricocheted off the Nargothrondian's sword. The _adan's_ facial expression of fury suddenly turned into one of shock.

Although he hated to admit it, this elf was probably the best swordsman he'd ever seen.

The Nargothrondian gripped his sword tightly, preparing to throw it. Callon drew in breath sharply. In all the times he had accompanied his _adar_ to the training grounds, he had never seen anyone throw a sword. Not once. He knew that it could be done, but it was rare that it ever met its mark, because of the weight.

The _adan_ gaped as he watched the elf prepare to throw the sword at him. He wanted to run, but his legs would not obey him. Suddenly, the sword was flying, straight and true. Callon turned away, and covered his eyes. As incredible as the feat was, he didn't wish to see the aftermath. There was strangled noise from below, and then a resounding _thud_. Callon slowly uncovered his eyes, and then immediately wished he hadn't.

The _adan_ would've been gazing unseeingly at the ground, had the Nargothrondian's sword not been sticking out of his throat, pinning him to a tree.

The Nargothrondian fell backwards, back to his former position on the ground, exhausted. His eyelids felt like lead. He could barely keep them open. He could faintly hear Callon crying out in alarm over the ringing in his ears. The seconds seemed like hours. Suddenly, a few "hours" later, he saw the blurred form of Callon running towards him. His eyes closed. He didn't have the strength to keep them open. He had used the last it when he had thrown the sword to protect Callon. Darkness finally claimed him. The elfling was safe now. He no longer needed protection.

Callon ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, and then fell to his knees beside his friend. He gave the Nargothrondian a shake. No response. He tried again, this time, shaking the Nargothrondian a little harder. Same result. Callon could feel fear and panic building up inside of him.

"_Echuia_! Please wake up!" the Nargothrondian's eyes fluttered open for a few brief seconds before he passed out again.

Callon was terrified. His friend was hurt! So very hurt. And there was no one there to help. Whenever he, or one of his friends got hurt, Callon could always trust that either his parents or another adult would be there. But now, there was no one. Callon was alone, with a hurt friend, and absolutely no idea how to help that friend.

He was only six years old! What could he do?

* * *

Eleithel didn't share a bond with Daecrist or Callon the same way Alquawen and Maewen shared a bond with their brothers, however, being both a mother and a retired marchwarden had taught her to trust her gut whenever she got a feeling that something was off. And now that Alquawen and Maewen had sensed that something was wrong…. Eleithel knew she had been right that morning when she woke up with a feeling that something was out of place.

"What do you mean, 'you can't reach him'?" Eleithel asked the gentle healer with concern. She had retired after Callon had been born, so she had worked with Beleg, Mablung, and Culdôr for a time. She had witnessed how devoted Beleg and Culdôr were to their sisters. And now Alquawen couldn't reach Beleg? The two siblings were so close knit that one not being able to reach the other seemed nearly impossible.

"That's exactly what I mean, Eleithel. I've tried telepathically connecting with him several times, and he's not responding." Alquawen said softly "I fear for him. He normally replies quickly, to be honest, he usually contacts me first."

"What about you, Maewen? Were you able to get through to Culdôr?" Eleithel asked.

"Yes." Maewen hiccuped as she valiantly tried to fight back tears. Eleithel felt horrible for pressuring Maewen into telling her what was going on. The young _elleth_ was so innocent and gentle… but Eleithel needed to know what was going on. Not only for Daecrist and Callon's sake, but rather for everyone's sake. All of those marchwardens had loved ones at home; spouses, children, sweethearts, siblings, parents… and they all would be heartbroken if the marchwardens got hurt… or worse… killed. Although no one wanted to admit it, there was always a chance that the worst could happen. She learned that the hard way in her marchwarden days.

* * *

_Two-hundred and fifty-seven years beforehand_

* * *

_It was a massive battle. They were sent as reinforcements for the troop trapped there. She had only been a private at the time - the lowest rank in the army. Young, adventurous, and itching for a fight. What she got was being trapped in a massacre. _

_She had been fighting wildly. They had underestimated the enemy's numbers. When they got there, the place had been crawling with yrch. Now, it was overflowing. Someone screamed her name. She ignored. _

"_ELEITHEL!" this time, the scream was much louder, as if whoever shouted her name was closer. All of a sudden, she heard it. A loud hissing noise, coming her way. Then, someone tackled her to the ground without warning. Eleithel's eyes at least doubled their size when her rescuer's agonized scream mingled with the horrific sound of an arrow penetrating flesh._

_Elleth and ellon tumbled to the bloodstained ground. As they fell, Eleithel noticed a rather interesting ranking mark on the ellon's sleeve. As soon as she hit the ground, Eleithel scrambled over to her fallen rescuer. _

"_General! General Daecrist, are you alright!?" Daecrist only groaned in response as he placed a protective hand over his side. Eleithel was confused. So far, Daecrist had seemed to resent her for her sense of adventure and for her love of fighting. Why did he save her?_

"_Next time you're told… to duck… please do so." _

"_RETREAT!" a higher-ranking General's cry echoed throughout the battlefield. Eleithel and another marchwarden pulled Daecrist to his feet and started to run. Soon after though, another arrow took out the other marchwarden. Daecrist and Eleithel were then on their own, two edhil running through the darkness…_

… _She went to visit Daecrist in the makeshift field infirmary after the battle. It had been a total disaster. The troop that had been trapped there had been completely wiped out. There hadn't been a single survivor. Over half of Eleithel's troop had either been wounded or killed. She wanted to apologize to her General for her reckless behavior. Had she been more careful, he wouldn't have gotten hurt._

_When she entered the tent though, fear took hold. Eleithel looked around in horror at the numerous cots scattered throughout the tent, with a wounded marchwarden or soldier on each one. She took a deep breath to calm herself, and then walked up to one of the healers._

"_Excuse me?" she asked. The healer turned around. She was good-looking, her silver hair fell down to her waist, and her dark blue eyes contrasted with her fair skin, although her cheeks were rosy. Eleithel couldn't tell whether it was natural, or if it was from all the work she was doing. She smiled though, despite the awful things going on in the tent._

"_Mae govannen! How can I assist you?" _

"_I'd like to inquire about a friend of mine?"_

"_Of course! Who's your friend?"_

"_General Daecrist?" The healer's brow furrowed for a second as she thought, before her eyes lit up in recognition. _

"_Colonel Daecist is over there. Have a good rest of your day."the healer replied with a smile. Eleithel, however, wasn't listening. She was stuck on one word; Colonel. There had to be some mistake. Daecrist couldn't have been demoted. Could he? He hadn't done anything wrong during the battle, had he?_

"_I think there's been a mistake?" Eleithel started to say, but the healer was gone, taking care of other patients. _

_For the second time since she had been there, Eleithel took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and continued. Daecrist was on the farside of the tent, laid up on a cot, staring at the tent flaps fluttering in the wind. Eleithel winced as she noticed that his side was heavily bandaged._

"_General?" Eleithel asked, her voice quiet. Daecrist looked up, startled, then quickly unclasped his hands from where they had been behind his head, and got himself into a sitting position. It was rather strange. Daecrist didn't look half as imposing as he normally did. His tunic and whatever armor he had lay on a trunk next to the cot, leaving him in dirt covered trousers and a bloodstained undertunic. His braids were coming undone, allowing his light brown hair to fall into his face. His face was smudged with dirt, grime, and Valar-knew-what had been on the ground during the battle, but his grey eyes still shone brightly. In short, he looked more like a weather beaten traveler than the warrior he was._

"_Private." he returned her greeting, carefully masking a grimace from the sudden movement. "And… it's Colonel, now, actually." he said with a slightly sheepish expression. There was an awkward moment of silence between the pair, as they both searched for something to say. "Why are you here?" Daecrist asked her, genuinely confused._

"_I wanted to make sure that you were alright after the battle." Eleithel replied, finding her voice at last. Daecrist blinked, stunned silent. Eleithel hadn't known at the time, but she had been the first person to ever visit the young General after a battle, simply to ask him if he was alright. _

"_I'm… fine, thank you. Um… how are you?" Now, it was Eleithel's turn to be confused. This was the first time she had ever heard Daecrist sound unsure of himself._

"_I'm alright, just… shaken I suppose." _

"_I know the feeling." they again were silent, unable to tear their minds away from the terrible losses. Eleithel wanted, no, needed to ask Daecrist something, only… she didn't know if she had the courage to spit it out. Oh, to blazes with that excuse. She was more worried about how it would affect him._

"_Why were you demoted?" Eleithel asked, trying to ask it gently. Daecrist looked as if he didn't know how to put it into words. _

"_He was demoted because his 'rescue' antics were reckless, unplanned, and most importantly, foolish." a new voice said sharply. Daecrist resisted the urge to say something back, as General Thoronmîr stepped into the scene. Thoronmîr was the lowest ranking General above Daecrist's former station, and was the ellon who had pushed for Daecrist's demotion. The two had grown up together, and unfortunately, the ellyn did not have a good relationship by any means._

_Eleithel felt like she had been slapped across the face, as guilt began to build up inside of her. Now, not only was she the reason that Daecrist had gotten hurt, she was the reason he had been demoted. _

"_And, " Eleithel mentally added as she noticed that the General's symbol had literally been ripped off the sleeve of Daecrist's tunic "humiliated as well."_

_Daecrist could feel his blood rushing to his cheeks out of anger. Not because Thoronmîr was going ahead and trying to embarrass him, but rather because Thoronmîr was playing on Eleithel's guilt. Valar be damned, the poor elleth felt bad enough without Thoronmîr being a total uncaring bastard._

"_With all due respect, General." Daecrist suddenly spoke up. "Culdôr_ _and Eleithel are the only knife throwers we have in Pessmenel. We can't afford to lose either of them, so I did what I had to." Eleithel looked up in surprise. Daecrist was defending her? Thoronmîr gave Daecrist a glare._

"_You're forgetting your place, Colonel. Do you need to be moved down another rank?" Daecrist threw Thoronmîr a glare of his own. _

"_Do what you like. At least I know that I did the right thing, even if you don't think so." Daecrist replied coolly, but with steel behind each word. Eleithel couldn't help admiring the fact that although demoted, Daecrist still acted every bit like a General. Thoronmîr walked away in a huff, muttering some rather insulting things under his breath. Then, to Eleithel's utter astonishment, shock, and amusement, Daecrist childishly stuck his tongue out at Thoronmîr's retreating back._

"_Sorry." Daecrist apologized with a sheepish grin. "I couldn't resist." Eleithel couldn't help returning his grin. _

"_I don't think I would've been able to resist either." once again, they fell silent. "I-I'd also like to apologize for not following orders during the battle." Eleithel said at last. _

"_Forget it. Those orders I had to give came from that idiot, Thoronmîr. If it hadn't been for his stupid ideas, we could've gotten away with fewer losses." Eleithel gawked. Daecrist wasn't bothered by the fact that she had disobeyed orders? "Some days, I wonder if he's secretly an orc." Daecrist commented dryly._

"_He's ugly enough." Eleithel quipped without thinking first. She quickly clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized what she had just said. Daecrist looked at her in surprise. Had she really just insulted a higher ranking officer? A slow smile spread across his normally stern features before he could stop it. They were soon laughing hysterically at the truth in Eleithel's observation._

_And that's how an unlikely friendship began between the Colonel and the Private. And eventually, that friendship grew into something more._

* * *

"Eleithel? Eleithel, wake up." Eleithel looked up, startled out of her reverie. The day after that battle had been the day that she and Daecrist had come to an understanding. She discovered that he understood and respected that she loved adventure, he just wished her to be safe.

"What? Oh. Sorry about that, I must've zoned out. Maewen, what did Culdôr tell you? I don't like pressuring you into telling me, but we need to know what's going on, so we know how to act." Maewen nodded, and did her very best to repeat everything Culdôr had said without crying. At the end of it all, she broke down into tears. Eleithel's mind was racing as she and Alquawen did their best to comfort the young apprentice. This was not good at all! Culdôr had always been so confident… whatever was going on must be extremely bad if he promised Maewen that he would return…

"We need to convince master-healer Aearon to dispatch some healers with medical supplies. If we can convince him to do so, then we can set up a temporary infirmary tent on the road to Nargothrond."

* * *

Daecrist fired arrow after arrow from where he lay on the ground. His leg was definitely broken, he was certain of _that_. How badly broken, on the other hand… the answer to that question was elementary: he had no idea. It used to feel like fire was racing up and down his leg, now, the fire was ice. His leg was entirely numb. Daecrist was not a healer by any means (in fact, he had a feeling that if he tried to fix his leg, he'd either make it worse, or break it in another location) but he was certain that the numbness wasn't good. He briefly wondered if the healers would be able to patch him up.

He was running out of arrows. He wondered if he'd make it back to Doriath. He wondered whether or not his _ion_ was alive. He hoped so. Callon had so much to live for. He wondered what would happen to Eleithel if he didn't return. He wondered if his family knew how much he loved them. He knew he didn't say it often enough. He'd gladly give his life to protect them. Daecrist swore to himself that he'd tell Eleithel and Callon how much he loved them more often, if he made it out alive.

* * *

"_If I ever leave this world alive_

_I'll thank you for all the things you did in my life_

_If I ever leave this world alive_

_I'll come back down and sit beside your feet tonight_

_Wherever I am you'll always be_

_More than just a memory_

_If I ever leave this world alive_

_If I ever leave this world alive_

_I'll take on all the sadness that I left behind_

_If I ever leave this world alive_

_The madness that you feel will soon subside_

_So in a word, don't shed a tear_

_I'll be here when it all gets weird_

_If I ever leave this world alive"_

* * *

Daecrist reached for his quiver, but his hand met air. His eyes widened in panic. He didn't have any more arrows. For the first time since he started thinking about his family, he looked at the battle field. Now, his eyes widened in shock. All the _edain_ that had been approaching him were _dead_. Had he really killed them all?

"_Don't be an idiot." _the voice inside his head snapped. "_You couldn't have killed them all. There had to be someone else."_ but… there wasn't anyone there. Daecrist could easily accept the fact that there had to have been someone else there. Afterall, a warrior was supposed to be modest, truthful, and selfless. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone else was there, but… at the same time… he couldn't see anyone. For some reason, the presence he felt didn't feel anything like an elf. He wasn't alone. And his companion's presence practically screamed _adan_, the same way that his mind screamed danger.

"Well, look what we have here." Daecrist looked behind him. There. An evil looking _adan_ was standing in his blindspot. He walked around the fallen elf until he was standing beside him. Daecrist gave the _adan_ a look that he normally reserved for uncooperative marchwardens and soldiers. He wanted to make sure that this _adan_ understood that he was not going to be an easy kill.

Dúnmod couldn't help giving the broken elf a sinister smile. This elf definitely was a fighter. Unfortunately for him, his position made him an easy target, vulnerable to attack. Just the way Dúnmod liked it. Despite the fact that he was willing to do anything to gain power, Dúnmod was a coward, prefering to kill anyone who stood in his way when they had no way of fighting back. His smile grew wider. He'd have fun breaking the elf even further. Dúnmod knelt beside the fallen elf warrior, to get a closer look at him.

" A General, eh?" he inquired, tugging the insignia on the elf's sleeve. The elf just fixed him with a death glare instead of giving him an answer. Dúnmod slipped his hand beneath the elf's horse, and pressed down on the elf's obviously broken leg. Hard. The elf General clenched his jaw, refusing to cry out, as the pain in his leg intensified. "I said 'are you a General?'"

"_Hands… off… adan. _" the elf somehow managed to hiss through his teeth. Dúnmod pressed on the elf's leg even harder.

Black spots danced in front of Daecrist's vision. But he stubbornly refused to make any noise. "_At least the ice has returned to fire." _Daecrist told himself

Dúnmod stopped pressing on the elf's leg. It was quite obvious now that pain was not going to make the elf talk. Fortunately for Dúnmod, however, he had enough information on this troop of Doriath to come up with another tactic to get this elf to talk.

"My men were spying on all of you on the road. I've been told that there was an elf-youngster riding behind you. Your child, I presume?" even as he said the words, the elf's eyes sparked with fury. Dúnmod smiled smugly. He had hit the elf in the right spot. "Well, if inflicting pain on _you_ won't get you to talk, then maybe inflicting pain on your _offspring_ will! Why don't I get some of my men to go and search-" Dúnmod never saw the strike. He just felt the effect of it, as he lay flat on his back, clutching his stomach.

"_I'LL KILL YOU IF YOU EVEN DARE TO LAY A FINGER ON HIM, YOU BASTARD!" _the elf shouted lividly. Dúnmod grimaced as he sat up, rubbing his stomach. He had forgotten how protective parents were. Especially elves. He briefly wondered if he had made a fatal mistake, coming between an elf General and his child.

"SHUT UP, ELF-SCUM!" Dúnmod shouted back, landing a punch to the elf's jaw.

Daecrist's head snapped back from the sudden impact. He could care less. Right now, he was far beyond caring about the pain. Callon's safety was all that mattered now. He had to stop this _adan_ from sending men out to find his son. If they found him, they could, no, they _would_, they would take him, and… he didn't want to think about what they could possibly do to Callon. But, how was he going to prevent the _adan_ from organizing a search party? Daecrist had used all his arrows, and his only other weapon was a dagger which was, unfortunately, in its sheath, which was strapped to his broken leg, and under his horse. Daecrist's mind was racing furiously for an answer to the point where he was almost certain that he could smell smoke. The _adan_ stood up with a smirk, scanning the field for any of his soldiers. If Daecrist didn't act now, his _ion_ was as good as found.

Suddenly, he saw something out of the corner of his eye that caught his attention. The arrow sticking out of his horse's chest had gone in at an angle, and there was a possibility that he could just reach it. Daecrist leaned forward as far as his injuries allowed. His fingertips brushed against the flights of the arrow. He leaned forward even farther. Callon's fate now stood on the edge of a knife, if he didn't get this arrow… he didn't want to think about what could happen, but try as he might, he couldn't keep the horrific images from popping up in his mind. Finally, he grabbed onto the arrow.

"_Saes goheno-nin, old friend..._" Daecrist whispered, before yanking the arrow out of his horse.

Dúnmod tensed as he heard the unmistakable creak of a bow being drawn. He turned around. There was the elf, with his bow drawn, and a bloody arrow aimed right at Dúnmod's throat. Dúnmod laughed.

"What do you think you're going to do with that bow, elf?" his laughter died quickly as the elf gave him a glare that would've made an orc freeze in their tracks. To hell with that. That glare was enough to make Morgoth himself hesitate. Dúnmod gulped. He had definitely made a mistake when he made the choice to drag the elf's brat into this.

"I'm going to use this bow to put this arrow through your throat, _adan_. Did you really think I would allow you to harm my child without fighting back? You've made your last mistake, _mellon_. You've killed your last victim."

"If everything I've heard about the warriors of Doriath is true, it's against your code to kill an innocent and unarmed man..." Dúnmod countered, unable to keep his voice from trembling.

"You're no innocent. And I wouldn't consider a knife thrust through the back of your belt as 'unarmed'." Dúnmod's eyes widened. Algar's knife. He never thrust it through his belt! How did it get there? All of a sudden, a sinister laugh echoed in his head. A laugh he knew all too well.

"_This is my revenge."_ a sing-song voice said sweetly, blending in with the insane laughter. "_This is my revenge!"_ Dúnmod had never believed in ghosts. He wasn't so sure now.

"_Algar, please don't do this."_ Dúnmod mentally screamed for mercy.

"_Why? You never pitied me when you did me in, scum. Why shouldn't I do the same to you?"_

"_I killed you because you were weak, and I was-"_

"_And you were stronger? Only a coward kills his opponent when they can't fight back, craven! I hope you enjoy a taste of your own medicine!"_

"_Algar, please, no!"_ the last thing Dúnmod felt was a sharp pain just above his collarbone, and then… darkness.

Daecrist collapsed backwards in exhaustion, relieved that Callon was safe. For now at least. Also, because that dangerous _adan_ was dead, and wouldn't harm another innocent again. His entire life flashed before his eyes. The day he got stuck up in a tree during a thunderstorm, his _Adar_ climbed up to rescue him, and his _Naneth _tackled them both in a massive hug as soon as they both were safely on the ground. The day his parents died. His older brother comforting him during a thunderstorm, as he had always been afraid of thunder. His older brother saving his life, and giving up his own in the process. The day he had saved Eleithel's life. The disaster that had been his first date with Eleithel. Their wedding day, which had also been the day he threw up for the first time. Holding Callon just an hour after he had been born, wishing that his parents and brother could've been there.

His mind once again went back to his thoughts about his family. He wasn't very good at praying, but he prayed with all his heart that Eleithel and Callon would be alright, should he not return. He didn't know if the Valar were listening. Perhaps they only listened to those who prayed every other minute. But… maybe, just maybe… they could hear him.

* * *

"_So when in doubt, just call my name_

_Just before you go insane_

_If I ever leave this world, hey, I may never leave this world_

_But if I ever leave this world alive"_

* * *

Alquawen, Maewen, and Eleithel sat side-by-side in the carriage as they raced down the road to Nargothrond. Luckily, they weren't alone. They had been able to convince Aearon to send a band of healers to the marchwardens, as well as supplies. In fact, he had come with them himself, and was also able to get a troop of Cadets to help defend the group, should anything happen.

Alquawen fingered the short sword that she had dug out of Beleg's stachel at her home. Although they were only going for medical purposes, they weren't taking any chances. She glanced over at Maewen. The apprentice sat there, staring at her brother's spare twin knives that she held with trembling hands.

"I'm not brave enough." she whispered so quietly, that Alquawen and Eleithel had to strain their already sensitive ears to hear her. Maewen looked over at them with terrified eyes. "I know we're not going over to fight, but if it comes to it… I-I don't think I'd be able to do it." Eleithel quietly stood up and placed her hands on Maewen's shoulders.

"Do you really think any of us are? Only fools are not afraid to fight. I still have nightmares of battle. Daecrist does too. We've always been afraid to fight. Everyone is. Even the most seasoned warriors, soldiers, and marchwardens are afraid to fight, because you can never predict what's going to happen. However, the courage to fight for what you care about, and what you believe in exists in everyone, even you. You have the courage to stand up, and fight for those you care about, Maewen. I'm sure of it." Maewen returned Eleithel's confident gaze with a shaky smile.

"_Hannon-le, mellon-nín._"

Alquawen couldn't help admiring Eleithel. The retired marchwarden had donned her old gear before joining them in the carriage. She looked every bit like the formidable fighter all the marchwardens said she was. Her marchwarden's uniform was several different shades of green and brown, helping her to blend in with the flora around her, her long chestnut hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, and she had several small, gleaming throwing knives thrust through her belt. It was hard to believe that this warrior-queen that stood before them was their herb-collector.

As impressive as Eleithel looked, it wasn't her looks that Alquawen admired. It was her self-control. Eleithel was like a river, calm on the surface, but turbulent below the serene façade. Alquawen could tell that even though Eleithel kept a calm and level head, she was frantic with worry for her husband and child. Eleithel sat down beside her, staring vacantly at the floor. Her eyes betrayed her true feelings. Alquawen placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"It'll be alright." she murmured quietly. Eleithel gave her a small, but grateful smile.

"Aye, it will be." although she didn't show it, Eleithel was terrified. She already dealt with nightmares about her fallen comrades. She didn't need nightmares of Callon and Daecrist. She hadn't been lying when she told Maewen that she and Daecrist suffered nightmares. Sometimes, they'd wake up in the dead of night, crying and screaming. They would then do their best to console each other, two shattered _fae_ trying to heal the other. In fact, Eleithel had woken up from a nightmare last night. Luckily, she hadn't woken up Callon with all the fuss, however, she had woken up Daecrist.

He didn't say anything. He just held her, gently rocking her back and forth, until the tears stopped, and she fell asleep. She didn't need to tell him that happened. He already knew, and understood.

It was strange. Had she admitted that she and Daecrist had nightmares to someone who only knew them as marchwardens, they wouldn't have believed it. Although they hadn't meant to, Eleithel and Daecrist had accidently created a reputation for themselves as fearless warriors by their deeds in battle. Most of the _Iathrim_ didn't know who they really were. Thankfully, things had quieted down for Eleithel since she retired. Daecrist, on the other hand, was a different matter. When people heard the name "Daecrist Gaeredhelion" they all thought of that elf General in Pessmenel, the tiny province of Doriath, between the River Aros and the River Celon, the closest province to Nan Elmoth. They only saw him as a fearless and invincible warrior. Only Eleithel, Callon, and a few close friends saw him as who he truly was; a loving father and husband, who enjoyed carving, reading, horseback riding, and joking around with his wicked sense of humor. But most importantly, he loved spending time with his family. It didn't matter what they were doing. They could be going on a family horseback ride, taking a walk, or, they could be doing nothing. Just simply being together was enough.

Whenever he left to go on a mission, Daecrist would promise her that he'd do everything in his power to return to her. He knew he couldn't promise the impossible. Despite what people said about him, Daecrist had always accepted the hard fact that he wasn't made of mithril. He could be broken. He could be killed. But this mission was different. He didn't give her his usual promise. Instead, he had promised her that he'd fight to the death to ensure Callon's safety if it came to it.

"_Bring him home with you. Saes." she whispered into his ear as he held her in a gentle embrace. _

"_Don't worry about him, Erbraig-nín. If anyone even dares lay a hand on him, it'll be over my dead body. I promise."_

Eleithel fervently prayed that she would find Callon, and Daecrist's living body.

* * *

"_She says I'm okay, I'm alright_

_Though you have gone from my life_

_You said that it would_

_Now everything should be alright_

_She says I'm okay, I'm alright_

_Though you have gone from my life_

_You said that it would_

_Now everything should be alright_

_Yeah should be alright"_

"_If I Ever Leave This World Alive" - by Flogging Molly_

* * *

Culdôr fought wildly. He couldn't die. He'd made a promise to Maewen. A promise he couldn't break. But the _edain _were overwhelming him. Before he could make another move, an _adan_ kicked his legs out from underneath him. Both of his knives flew out of his grasp, as he landed hard on his back.

This was it. Beleg and Mablung weren't there to save him this time.

"_I'm sorry, Maewen. Saes goheno-nín. I love you!"_ Culdôr didn't wait to hear Maewen's response. He just blocked their bond as quickly as possible. He didn't want her to feel this. He had gotten badly injured before, and the guilt of knowing that his little _gwathel_ shared his pain was far worse than any form of pain he had ever felt. The least he could do was prevent her from feeling the blow that would end his life. It was his duty to protect her. To Culdôr, the duty of an older _gwanûr_ was far more important than the duty of a marchwarden.

* * *

Éadgel watched in horror as his kin knocked down the strawberry-blonde elf. He had watched them kill other elves, but this was the first time he had come to this realization. That elf was someone's son. Someone's brother, either by blood or by choice. Someone's best friend. Someone's sweetheart. For all he knew, that elf could be someone's husband. Someone's father. Someone's _grandparent_ even. It was impossible to tell how old an elf was by just looking at them. Éadgel just couldn't watch this happen. He had to do something

* * *

Culdôr braced himself, waiting for the _adan's_ sword to come down. Suddenly, there was a loud hissing noise. An arrow? Had Beleg come just in the nick of time? He opened his eyes, and froze. The flights on that arrow weren't elvish. The _edain_ stared at the murderer in shock. Culdôr looked behind him. A young _adan_ placed a crossbow on the ground, and then drew his sword. This ranger had saved him? Why?

"_TRAITOR!"_ one of the _edain_ screamed. "Look at what you've done!"

"As if what he was about to do was any better!" the ranger yelled back, indicating to the fallen _adan_.

"Get him!" the angry _adan_ yelled in fury.

Culdôr went completely ignored as the _edain_ raced over to the ranger. He made a mental note to include a side note on the short attention span of _edain_ in his field journal.

"_And,"_ Culdôr thought to himself as he watched the ranger fight "_a side note of their unexpected behavior."_ he quickly gathered up his fallen weapons, and sprinted over to help who he hoped was a new friend.

* * *

Éadgel braced himself as his ex-comrades rushed at him. He wished there could've been another way to save the elf's life. He also wished he could get out of this mess alive. He had seen these men fight, and he knew that they were stronger, heavier, taller,and far more experienced than he was. They had all the advantages. And they were fueled by their anger. The only thing he had was that he was quicker. Or, at least he hoped he was. However, his chances of winning a fight against these men were slim.

He jumped quickly as someone swung a sword low, attempting to ground him. Permanently. Éadgel raised his sword, blocking two swords whose wielders were trying to take off his head. Another one of his new enemies rushed at him, sword raised, going in for the kill. Éadgel knew he wasn't going to get out of this one. He closed his eyes, and hoped that his mother and brother would be able to go on without him.

But the sword never came. He opened an eye. The approaching man had fallen face first in the dirt, an elven dagger sticking out of his back. The strawberry-blonde elf had become like some ancient god of war, wreaking havoc among the men. Éadgel fell backwards, kicking at his opponents' legs in an attempt to trip them. It was a rare sight, _edhel_ and _adan_ fighting side by side. Éadgel looked around in stunned silence. In a few short moments, they had managed to kill all of their opponents. The strawberry-blonde elf suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder, and pulled him behind a large stone sticking out of the ground.

"Why'd you help me?" he whispered as soon as they were out of sight. Éadgel's eyes widened.

"You can speak in the common tongue?" Éadgel whispered back, stunned, and momentarily ignoring the elf's question. "I thought the elves only spoke their own language."

"Aye, I can. And so can some of the others. I ask you again, _adan_, why did you help me?"

"Because it was the right thing to do." Éadgel replied after some consideration. "I didn't sign up for this so I could take the lives of others." the elf nodded in understanding. "What's your name?" Éadgel asked after a few moments of silence.

"Culdôr." the elf answered. "What's yours?"

"Éadgel."

"You realize that once your people find out you killed your own, they'll condemn you." Culdôr pointed out. Éadgel winced. How was he going to support his family now? "Why are you here, anyway?" Culdôr asked suddenly in confusion. "You're awfully young to be out here on a battlefield."

Before Éadgel knew what he was doing, he was telling Culdôr everything. About his father's death. About how he was left to take care of his family. About how he signed up for this mission because Algar had promised that all the men would get a share in the profits (although he never was told what the profits were).

"_Éadgel what are you doing?!_" the voice in his head snapped. "_You've only just met this elf. Why on this good green earth are you telling him all your problems? He could turn you over to either side at any minute! Worse yet, he could kill you when you least expect it."_ Culdôr, however, made no move. He just listened.

"You need to get out of here unnoticed, _mellon_." Culdôr said thoughtfully. "I'm willing to help you." Éadgel was stunned.

"Culdôr...why? You have no allegiance to my people."

"You're right, Éadgel, I don't. But you saved my life. I owe you that much." Éadgel was touched by this unlikely gesture of kindness. Maybe he'd get back to his family after all.

"I have an idea." Culdôr stated suddenly. Éadgel listened intently. "Clean your sword." Although confused by the command, Éadgel did as he was bidden. He had a feeling that Culdôr was one smart elf. Perhaps his plan would work. Culdôr pulled a clean dagger from his boot, and carefully sliced his palm.

"Culdôr! What on earth?" Éadgel yelped in horror when he noticed the blood quickly staining the elf's hand.

"Oh, knock it off. Pass me your sword, will you? Bewildered, Éadgel passed the marchwarden his sword. Then, to his astonishment, Culdôr smeared his blood on the blade. It all became as clear as day. His sword had been covered in the dark blood of his kin. Now, it was stained bright scarlet; elf blood. His sword would've given him away.

"There." Culdôr murmured, once the bloody deed was done. "Now, it looks like you were killing elves rather than your own people." he said as he passed the blade back to Éadgel. "Now, here's the plan..."

* * *

An _adan_ fell, pierced by an arrow, as he tried to sneak up on an unsuspecting elf. Mablung whirled around, firing arrows with expert marksmanship that was nearly as good as Beleg's. He scanned the battlefield for about the second hundredth time that day. Still no sign of Beleg, Culdôr, Daecrist, or Callon. He shouted their names. No answer. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a certain knife thrower, chasing an _adan_.

"_Culdôr!_"

* * *

Éadgel sprinted into the forest with Culdôr hot on his heels. He hoped this plan would work. According to Culdôr's plan, he was supposed to run into the forest, trip, and fall to the ground. Culdôr would then "kill" him, and Éadgel would scream and "die" in response. Once the coast was clear, Culdôr would give him a signal, and then, Éadgel would start the long journey home, approaching his village from behind, in case anyone came to inform the villagers of his "death" or, if anyone suspected that he had deserted.

"_Now!"_ Culdôr whisper-shouted after they were well into the foliage. The plan was quickly put into action. Éadgel fell to the ground, and Culdôr was soon on top of him, pretending to thrust a bloodstained knife into the ranger. Éadgel's scream echoed throughout the forest, unintentionally catching the attention of other _edain_ nearby. Fortunately for Éadgel, Culdôr made short work of them.

* * *

Mablung heard the scream. He ran faster, praying that Culdôr was alright, swearing to all the Valar that if his friend was hurt, he'd kill the one responsible. Then kill Culdôr for being reckless. Speaking of killing his friend, he'd have to find Beleg so he could kill him for the same reason. And Daecrist… he had a feeling that Eleithel would take care of killing him.

* * *

"You're clear, Éadgel. Now get moving." Éadgel sat up, and checked himself over to make sure he was prepared for the journey.

"_Hannon-le, mellon._" Culdôr looked up in surprise.

"You know elvish?"

"Not much." Éadgel admitted with a small smile. "A trader from Nargothrond was found badly wounded on the road to my village when I was a child. He recovered there, and kept himself busy by teaching the village children how to speak a little bit of elvish." Culdôr chuckled quietly.

"Well, I can tell you right now that I know many elves who can't simply just do nothing for extended periods of time." They were both silent after that.

"Best of luck." Culdôr said softly.

"You too." Éadgel replied with a pang of guilt, as he realized that Culdôr could very well be executed as a traitor if anyone found out that he had helped an enemy. "And…." Éadgel said suddenly as Culdôr started to leave. "_Please_ don't get in trouble on my account." Culdôr turned to face him.

"I thought about the possible consequences when I decided to help you, _mellon_." Éadgel was stunned. Culdôr had known the possibility that he could be condemned as a traitor, and decided to help him anyway? "And I can tell you now..." Culdôr said with a small, but genuine smile "... if I get executed, then at least I'll know it was for a cause I believed was right, and know I won't regret. Are you alright?" Éadgel nodded, as he wiped a few tears away.

"Aye, I'm alright. This is just the kindest thing anyone's ever done for me." All of a sudden, Culdôr caught him off guard with a hug.

"You deserve it." He said gently, as Éadgel hugged him back.

"If you ever stop by Argare Village, don't think twice about asking someone where I live. You're always welcome to stay awhile." Éadgel told his new friend, hoping that he'd see the elf again one day.

"Éadgel, I'll promise you right now that I'll take you up on that offer one day." Culdôr replied with a grin.

"_Navaer._" Éadgel murmured sadly, but Culdôr shook his head.

"No, not _navaer._ Just 'see you later'."

With that, the two friends departed, going separate ways. However, both had high hopes of seeing each other again one day.

* * *

Mablung raced through the forest, issuing some very… colorful… curses to the Valar, swearing that he'd never forgive himself if Culdôr had been killed. He was running so fast, he was completely oblivious to all his surroundings. He raced onwards, before crashing into someone. Being the courteous elf he was, Mablung quickly picked up the other elf.

"I'm so sorry! I'm looking for a friend. Have you seen_-Culdôr!_" He cried, practically squeezing all of the air out of the other elf's lungs in a crushing hug, for the elf he had knocked down was, in fact, Culdôr.

"Let go, Mablung you sap!" Culdôr choked out with a grin. He couldn't deny the fact that he was overjoyed to see his friend. Speaking of friends…

"Where's Beleg?" Culdôr asked suddenly once Mablung had released him from the embrace.

"I hoped he was with you." Mablung said with a grimace. "I haven't seen hide nor hair of Daecrist or Callon either." Culdôr cursed quietly.

"I hope they're alright."

"Well, there's only one way to find out." Both marchwarden were about to make a solemn pact that they would not rest until their friends were found, when a young elven soldier raced over to them.

"Arafhind, what's wrong?" Mablung asked. He and Culdôr knew the _ellon_ fairly well, as they had instructed Arafhind for a while.

"General Thoronmîr sent me to find the both of you. Daecrist's _hên_ is missing, and we've managed to make the remaining _edain_ retreat. General Thoronmîr wants Culdôr to search for Callon, and he wants Mablung to go with some others to pursue the _edain_."

"What about Beleg?" Culdôr questioned "He's the better tracker. Why doesn't General Thoronmîr send Beleg to search for Callon?" Mablung wished Culdôr would not use _this_ tactic to find Beleg. General Thoronmîr would have Culdôr's head for not obeying orders if he didn't play this dangerous game right. Arafhind looked down at his boots.

"That's the problem. We don't know where Beleg is." Both Mablung and Culdôr felt like they had been punched in the chest by a troll. No one had seen Beleg?

"What about General Daecrist?" Mablung finally managed to ask, although his mouth felt like it was lined with sandpaper. Arafhind's expression darkened.

"I like this just about as much as the two of you will." Both marchwardens listened intently. Arafhind took a deep breath before continuing. "General Daecrist's horse fell on top of him at the beginning of the battle, but General Thoronmîr said to leave him and continue fighting."

"He sent no help at all?!" Culdôr shouted, letting his emotions get the best of him. Arafhind unconsciously backed away a little as Mablung's expression became equally stormy. "He'll be _killed_ for Manwë's sake!"

"I know!" Arafhind choked through silent tears. Mablung, Culdôr, Beleg, and Daecrist had trained him when he first joined the army. Although the three marchwardens were closer in age to him, Arafhind had ultimately grown closer to Daecrist over the years, looking up to the General almost like a son would look up to a father.

"He's more concerned about losing a peace sign, rather than losing a loyal General and his child. When he ordered me to find the two of you, he told me to tell Culdôr to 'find the peace sign.' He didn't even recognize that our 'peace sign' has a name, and is another _edhel_. And a _child_ no less!" Arafhind's expression grew more pained with each passing word.

"We're going to do something." Mablung growled. "General or not, Thoronmîr can't just do this."

"Aye." Culdôr agreed firmly. "We're going to do something alright." He placed a hand on Arafhind's shoulder, training his confident gaze on the anxious _ellon_. "And we're doing something _together_." Arafhind dried his eyes, and then looked up at his friends with grim determination.

"Agreed. What's our course of action?"

"That's your cue, O clever one." Mablung said sarcastically, lightly elbowing Culdôr in the ribs.

"Very funny." Culdôr said with a grunt, although he was grateful that Mablung was trying to lighten the mood. "However, I might just have an idea."

"What is it?" Arafhind asked, eager to find a way to help Daecrist, Callon, and Beleg.

"I'll tell you, once Mablung decides to stop being sarcastic. Isn't that right, O bane-of-my-existence?"

"I'll only stop being sarcastic when you stop, hypocrite." Mablung retorted with a snort.

"Fair enough. Now, first things first. Arafhind, does Thoronmîr expect you to report back to him?"

"No." Arafhind answered. "He expects me to go to the back line."

"Good. Don't go there, instead, see if you can find Ruscdîr. Considering that he's Daecrist's Lieutenant, he should be loyal to him. Once you find him, convince him to go help Daecrist with you." Culdôr explained. Arafhind nodded in response.

"I have no doubt in my mind that Ruscdîr will help. He was against leaving Daecrist behind."

"Perfect." Culdôr said with a grim smile. "Ruscdîr has an air of command about him, so having him on our side will give us an advantage. Chances are he'll be able to get others to help. Mablung, you're going to do what Thoronmîr wants you to. When the _edain_ start running, pursue them, but then turn into the woods, and look for Beleg. I'll do what he wants as well, and look for Callon. We could be court marshalled for this, so if either of you want to back out, leave now."

"I'm in." Mablung said firmly. "Just because Thoronmîr's a General doesn't mean he has the right to leave others to die."

"Agreed. He can't get away with these things for long." Arafhind's golden flecked brown eyes sparked as the words came out of his mouth.

"I guess this makes us _gwedyr_ then." Culdôr said with a rebellious look in his eyes.

"Aye! _Gwedyr_ to the end!" Mablung and Arafhind chorused together.

* * *

"_What the hell were you thinking?"_ That was the only thought going through Beleg's head at the moment, as he clumsily parried away a sword with a fallen longsword he had picked up. Although he was trained, and although he hated to admit it, Beleg had never been very good with a sword. But now, there was no time to reflect on his training. The only thing he could do now was try to survive, as enemies closed in around him. Throwing all caution to the wind, Beleg raced into the woods, praying that he'd get cover there. The _edain_ he had been fighting flew after him, dodging trees and bushes as they went. Beleg ran faster. On the ground, he had a disadvantage.

"_In the trees, however..." _he thought to himself as he ran, before launching himself into the nearest tree.

* * *

"Where'd that blasted elf go?" an _adan_ asked when the posse had slowed to a stop, once they realised that the elf they had been chasing was no longer in sight.

"We lost him." the one who appeared to be second in command of the troop said glumly. Beleg held his breath from where he was carefully concealed among the branches. He said a quick and silent prayer to the Valar that the _edain_ would believe that he had outrun them. Unfortunately, his prayer went unanswered.

"Yeh dolts know nothing of elfs!" the troop leader snapped, harshly shoving his second in command to the ground. "They's tree 'uggers! That blonde we was chasing is 'idin' somewheres!" Beleg couldn't help mentally correcting all of the man's grammar.

"_Blast." _he whispered to himself with alarm bells going off in his head, as he watched the leader load a crossbow. "_I'm sorry."_ he murmured softly as he placed a hand on the tree's rough bark. "_Saes goheno-nin."_

"_Don't say that, eryn hên. I shall protect you." _the tree replied mentally to the elf.

"_Hannon-le." _Beleg responded mentally, just seconds before an arrow flew through the air, missing him by about twenty paces. The other _edain_ quickly caught on, loosing arrows like their lives depended on it. Beleg winced as an arrow struck the tree next to him, wishing that he couldn't hear the tree's pained groan in his head. Another arrow pierced the branch he was crouched on, finding it's mark directly beneath his feet. Beleg's heart beat wildly. This was getting more dangerous with each passing second. Another arrow flew above his head, missing him by inches. The air in his lungs suddenly froze as he watched some of the _edain_ prepare to burn him out.

"_I should go." _he thought to the tree. "_I don't want any of you getting hurt."_ as he said this, an arrow whizzed up into the tree, grazing his cheek as it barely missed him.

* * *

Eleithel and Maewen looked up from their thoughts in alarm when Alquawen clapped a hand on her cheek with a small squeak.

"Alquawen, what's wrong?" Eleithel asked, raising her voice slightly so she could be heard over the whistling wind as the carriage raced onwards. The silver haired _elleth_ looked up at her anxious friends with a joyful smile as well as grateful tears in her eyes.

"Beleg's _alive._"

* * *

"_That might be for the best."_ the tree said thoughtfully. "_May Nienna watch over you, eryn hên."_

"_Hannon-le, mellon."_ Beleg replied, before racing through the branches.

"Look!"

"There 'e is!"

"KILL 'IM!" the leader, Guthain, shouted, eager to have another dead elf on his kill record. The order only made his quarry run faster. The men fired arrows like mad at the archer sprinting through the trees, silently wondering how the elf was able to run on the thin branches.

Beleg ran faster than he ever had before, dodging all of the flying projectiles threatening to claim his life. He put on an extra burst of speed, and jumped to the next branch, using the branch he was on like a springboard.

The _edain_ watched in astonishment as the elf vaulted off a branch, somersaulted through the air, and then landed on another branch with extreme agility.

"What in Angband are yeh all doin'?!" Guthain screeched "Kill that bloody elf!" Beleg ran even faster.

"_Beleg! Beleg, are you alright?!"_ Alquawen's voice echoed in her brother's head. "_Saes gwanûr, what's happening?"_

"_Alquawen! Al, I'm not trying to scare you, but things are pretty bad."_

"_Don't worry, we're com-"_

"_LOOK OUT!"_ the tree's scream resounded in the marchwarden's mind, just seconds before an arrow penetrated the thin branch he was running on. Beleg cried out in alarm and shock as the limb suddenly broke, sending him plummeting to the ground. Time seemed to slow as he fell, striking his head on a branch as he went.

Falling.

Trees crying out.

Falling.

Alquawen calling out his name in fear.

Falling.

Men laughing.

Falling.

Hard landing.

Beleg dizzily pulled himself to his feet, only to lean against a tree with a gasp as lightheadedness suddenly overcame him.

"_What are you doing?!"_ part of him screamed "_Fight!"_

"_Too tired. Let me rest."_ the other part groaned. "_Head hurts. Everything hurts. Let me rest."_

"_The only rest you'll be getting is death if you don't fight! Stand up! Pick up your sword!"_ he listened. Somehow, Beleg managed to pick up the sword, which had fallen on the ground not too far away from him.

* * *

Alquawen gave a small cry, nearly falling off the bench she was sharing with Eleithel and Maewen. Both _ellith_ quickly caught her, steadied her, and then asked her if she was alright. Alquawen didn't answer. What was wrong with Beleg? Why was he so dizzy? Why did he suddenly have about the worst headache on the face of Arda?

"_Beleg!" _

* * *

Beleg swung the sword even more clumsily than before, as he shook his head, attempting to rid himself of his blurred vision, and the loud ringing in his ears. The loud noises of swords clanging together, Alquawen calling out to him, and screaming trees nearly made him cry. It hurt so much!

"_Gwathel, please! It hurts..." _ Beleg managed to say to her, just before he deflected his opponent's sword, wincing sharply as the blow sent a jolt through his body.

Guthain watched in the elf, cursing when he realized that the archer had taken out two more of his men. The elf was desperately fighting by instinct, making him far more dangerous than before. He let loose another curse when another one of his men fell just seconds later. His heart began to beat faster. He only had three men left.

Two.

One.

None.

He gnashed his teeth together in frustration. The men Dúnmod had assigned to him were useless! That blasted elf most likely had a concussion, and _still_ beat all of them. He'd kill the elf himself.

Beleg could just barely see the _adan_ running at him through trees, knife ready, going in for the kill. He held up the sword, ready to defend himself. The leader grinned evilly. In his confusion, the elf was holding the sword at an angle. And it was just the angle he wanted. Before Beleg knew what was happening, the _adan_ had knocked the sword out of his hands, and gave him a sharp kick to the stomach that sent him careening backwards into a tree. A wicked smile quickly spread across the man's features as his knife went down in a gleaming arc.

The elf's scream echoed throughout the forest as the knife was suddenly buried up to the hilt in his left arm, pinning him to the tree behind him. The _adan_ looked down at the wounded elf. Elves were supposedly creatures of grace and beauty, but with keen instincts and fighting skills. This elf now looked like the exact opposite, as he sat down on the ground, pinned to a tree, with blood running down his arm, trickling from a gash on his head, staining his blonde locks crimson, and slowly seeping from a cut on his cheek, allowing his blood to mingle with his tears. But the elf looked up at him in spite of the pain, green eyes burning with a strange light. A light that seemed to say one word; undefeated. The _adan_'s wicked smile got wider.

Beleg looked at the man through blurred vision. The man wanted to kill him. Painfully. He wasn't strong enough to block the bond he shared with Alquawen. She'd feel everything.

"_She's been through enough."_ Beleg thought to himself. "_She shouldn't have to feel this."_

Guthain was about to pull out another knife and kill the elf, when the elf murmured something in Sindarin. Was the elf trying to beg for mercy? Pathetic.

"If yer tryin' to say somethin' elf, say et in common tongue!" he snapped. The elf repeated whatever he said, in the common tongue, but the only word Guthain was able to catch was "sister". He knelt in front of the marchwarden, mockingly wiping a few of the elf's bloody tears away.

"So yer askin' me not to kill yeh 'cause yeh got a sister who needs yeh." he said with a snicker. "Aw, 'ow sweet." the elf met his gaze, eyes still burning with defiance. He pulled out two knives. Beleg noticed that one of the knives had several tally marks etched into the blade. "Yeh see that?" Guthain said with a smirk when he noticed that the elf had seen the marks. "That's 'ow many elfs I've killed." at this, the elf's eyes once again sparked with fury. Guthain gave a laugh, and then started scratching another tally into the blade with the other knife. He shoved in the marchwarden's face with an insane grin on his face. "Oh look, there's yer mark elf!" Beleg turned his head away, refusing to look at the freshly cut scratch.

"_He's mad. Absolutely mad."_ Beleg thought to himself. "_He wishes a painful death for me. He wants to hear me scream. He won't get that satisfaction. Not again."_

"Elfs are loyal from what I've 'eard." Guthain remarked offhandedly as he began to etch another tally. "Think yer sister will come?" he said with a wicked smirk. When Guthain looked into the elf's eyes, they were burning far more intensely. Burning with hate. Pure, raw, unadulterated hate.

"_IF YOU TRY TO HARM MY SISTER, I'LL KILL YOU!" _the elf yelled, struggling against the knife pinning him to the wood. Guthain's strike was so fast, Beleg didn't see it. He just felt the impact as the man slapped him across the face.

"I'd think et would be 'ard to kill me if yer dead." Guthain said with an overconfident laugh. Beleg's mind was racing. He had to stay alive. Alquawen needed him. Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled an arrow out of his quiver with his good arm, and then picked up the black yew bow from where it was lying beside him. Every movement sent a jolt of pain up his arm, and to his head. The _adan_ laughed.

"I'm so scared!"

Belg gripped the bow with his injured arm, wishing that he couldn't feel the pain that went along with it. Guthain threw one of his knives, only for Beleg to awkwardly dodge it. He quickly nocked the arrow to the bow, not wanting to meet Guthain's next knife. Another knife flew through the air, missing his head by just a few mere centimeters.

"_Saes." _he silently begged as Guthain let out a stream of profanities as he searched himself for another knife. "_I know that you didn't work for Mablung, but please work for me. Saes." _he closed his eyes, and pulled back on the string. "_Saes." _he released. "_Saes." _

A silvery hiss filled the air, followed by a strangled gasp, and then finally, the sound of someone hitting the ground. Beleg opened an eye, scarcely believing what he saw. The man lay on the ground, with one hand clutching at his throat, where an arrow had impaled him.

Beleg looked down at the bow in shock.

He tentatively pulled back the string. To his utter amazement, he was able to pull back the string as easily as if it were a twenty-weight bow. What was going on with this bow?

"_Beleg?!" _Alquawen's voice suddenly cried out in the abyss.

"_Al?" _Beleg thought back groggily. "_Don't worry about me. 'M alright."_

"_No, Beleg. No you're not." _Alquawen replied. "_You're dizzy, and you can't move your left arm. Saes, gwanûr. Tell me everything."_

"_I fell out of a tree, hit my head, and was stabbed in the arm. I'm now pinned to a tree by the knife, and alone." _He could feel his eyes getting heavier with each passing second.

"_Stay awake." _Alquawen said quickly. "_You may have a concussion, so do not fall asleep."_

"_I'll try."_ Beleg responded, even though he knew that it would probably be a losing battle. For some reason, the blow to his head had made him much more tired than he had already been from fighting. How was he going to keep himself awake? His musing was suddenly cut off, when the blood running down his arm started to trickle down his hand and drip off his fingers. He grimaced as his hand was quickly stained scarlet. He needed to staunch the bleeding, and fast.

"_Whatever you do, do not fall asleep." _Alquawen's murmured reminder echoed softly through his mind. "_And please don't remove the knife. You'll bleed out."_

"_I won't remove it… gwathel." _As much as he knew he needed to stay awake, Beleg was beginning to lose consciousness. A warm and slightly fuzzy feeling suddenly penetrated his thoughts. A warm and fuzzy feeling he knew quite well. His crooked smile found its way onto his face as he sent back the same loving feeling back to his sister.

All of a sudden, another thing was sent through their bond, something bright. Like the sun. It shone clearly, making the dark threat of unconsciousness dissipate. Beleg suddenly found that himself pushed back into awareness.

"_Hannon-le." _Was the only thing he could think back to Alquawen.

"_Don't mention it."_ Although he could not see her, Beleg was positive that Alquawen was smiling.

* * *

Arafhind raced through the battlefield, scanning the area for Ruscdîr. It had been a while since he had last seen the Lieutenant. Anything could've happened. Right now, he could only hope that the worst hadn't. He continued through the field, looking for someone in the patrol who may know Ruscdîr's whereabouts. He stopped a soldier running past him.

"Excuse me, but have you seen Lieutenant Ruscdîr anywhere? The General wants him." The soldier looked at him in shock.

"Haven't you heard? Lieutenant Ruscdîr defected nearly an hour ago."

Arafhind gaped. Ruscdîr had rebelled?

"He ran past me muttering something about loyalty." the soldier continued. Arafhind nodded his thanks to the soldier and went forward, going back to his search. Fortunately, he had a fairly good idea where Ruscdîr went. He sprinted through the battlefield, praying that he was going in the right direction.

He raced onwards, away from the battle, when he reached where everything had first started.

The sight made him want to cry. Dead bodies were strewn across the area. Both _edhil _and _edain _alike. Why did blood have to be shed? Why did wars have to be waged? Why did living, breathing creatures have to hate one another? Why could peace be only a dream?

Arafhind took a deep breath to gather himself. Now was not the time to mourn over what had come to pass. Now was the time to do what was right. He scanned the field for Ruscdîr. He had to be here. Arafhind did not want to believe that Ruscdîr could've been killed. That his… his… never mind.

Suddenly, something caught his eye. A body laying on the ground suddenly moved slightly from where he was pinned to the ground by his horse.

_Daecrist… _

He quickly raced over to his fallen mentor. Hoping beyond hope.

Arafhind sighed in relief after quickly examining the General and taking his vitals. Yes, he was still alive. Just unconscious.

But where was Ruscdîr?

Arafhind scanned the plain once again, with a new perspective. Most of the carcasses were _edain_. Most of them had an arrow embedded in them. A black shafted arrow with dark blue fletching. Daecrist's arrows. Arafhind couldn't help giving a low whistle of admiration. Almost every arrow had met its mark. Suddenly, he noticed something intriguing. Daecrist's arrows weren't the only elvish arrows littering the area. There were others. Arrows with dark brown shafts and with red and yellow barred fletching. His heart skipped a beat. Every archer in Doriath was required to make their own arrows. The unique design that every archer came up with was completely original, and no two were alike. This provided an easier way to tell who an arrow belonged to. He knew those arrows all too well.

"_Ruscdîr!"_ Arafhind shouted. "_Ruscdîr, where are you?!"_

No answer.

"_Ruscdîr?!"_ Arafhind was on the verge of giving up, when he heard rustling in the surrounding foliage. "Ruscdîr?" The rustling continued until a red-headed _ellon_ stumbled out of the woods. Arafhind sighed in relief. The Lieutenant had survived.

"Arafhind?" Ruscdîr's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He suddenly noticed the blood quickly staining the Lieutenant's side.

"Lieutenant Ruscdîr! You-you're hurt!"

"Knock it off, _cousin_. It's just a scratch." Arafhind's heart did a somersault, despite the despair surrounding them. They had been close once. Almost inseparable. Before the feud. The feud that tore their family apart. Resulting in their relationship being torn in two, through no fault of their own. They had not been allowed to interact with each other since. But when Arafhind joined the army, and Ruscdîr was assigned to help train him… they kept it secret, but still did as their families wished: not even acknowledged each other as _cousin._ Until now.

"Ruscdîr, you know we're not supposed to call each other that…" Arafhind murmured softly, even though he had been inwardly longing to be called that again.

"Frankly, Arafhind, I don't give a damn." Arafhind couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. His cousin hadn't changed a bit. "Now, let's help Daecrist." They both ran over to their friend.

"We're going to have to lift the horse off of him." Arafhind muttered. Ruscdîr nodded in agreement.

"I'll lift the horse up as far as I can. You pull Daecrist out."

"Ruscdîr, are you sure?" Arafhind asked, casting a worried look at his cousin's injury. Ruscdîr simply started to lift the animal. The younger soldier inwardly smiled. His cousin _really_ hadn't changed. He was still as stubborn as a mule.

"Get your head out of the clouds, Arafhind!" Ruscdîr's strained voice brought him back to earth. Arafhind looked up, startled, and then quickly pulled the General out from under the horse. He drew in his breath sharply as he noticed how badly broken Daecrist's leg was. His attention was suddenly drawn to his cousin's heavy breathing.

"Ruscdîr, are you sure you're alright?" Arafhind couldn't help noticing the pained look evident in his cousin's eyes.

"Aye… I'm alright." Ruscdîr murmured. His voice was slightly slurred as he leaned against the horse. "Just… just help Daecrist." A quiet groan caught their attention. Relief washed over them both as their friend slowly came back to consciousness.

"Wh-where's Callon?" Arafhind and Ruscdîr looked at each other, unsure of how to say what needed to be said.

"We… we don't know." Ruscdîr replied softly. Daecrist's eyes widened. This was the first time either of the cousins had seen him look truly afraid.

"Culdôr's looking for him." Arafhind added. "We would've sent Beleg, but we can't find him either." Daecrist mumbled a curse.

"I-I hope that th-they're alright."

"I'm sure they will be." Arafhind said, trying to believe what he just said.

"They will." Ruscdîr said firmly, once again hiding his pain behind a mask of his own stubbornness and pride. "Callon and Beleg are survivors. I have know doubt in my mind that they'll be fine. Beleg's probably crushing some kill record and Callon's probably being smart and hiding." Arafhind could only hope that his cousin was right.

* * *

"Callon!" Culdôr shouted for about the fiftieth time that day. He looked around, once again calling the child's name. Where was he? He had to be alive. So far, Culdôr had found only broken twigs, stems, and trampled vegetation that suggested that someone had run through here. At first, he was fairly sure that he had been tracking an _adan_, but then he found a patch of wet dirt, and the footprints he had found in there weren't just _edain_ prints. There was another set of prints that had been nearly covered. Whoever had made them was much lighter than the _edain_. _Much _lighter. And the footprints were far too small to be the prints of a full grown elf.

Now, he was positive that he was on the right track.

"Callon!"

* * *

Callon was on the verge of giving up hope. Perhaps no one was coming to look for him. Perhaps no one realized he was gone. But someone had to have seen what had happened. Someone must've seen General Amlug pull him up onto his horse, and then witness what had happened after. It had all been so quick… someone must've been there… right?

The Nargothrondian stirred slightly. Callon looked at him anxiously. Instead of waking up however, the Nargothrondian only slipped even further into unconsciousness. The elfling heaved a sigh. How long would it take for his new friend to wake up? How long until someone found them? How long until his friend got _help_? He felt so alone…

He squirmed, just to move. His parents had told him that if he ever got lost, he should stay put. But what if he was lost with someone who needed medical attention? Surely, he'd be allowed to move then. He'd be allowed to move so he could get help.

But… which way _was_ help?

He couldn't help it. He started to cry. He knew it was childish, but he just couldn't help it. His father was hurt. His friend was hurt. And on top of that, he was lost and couldn't help either of them.

Then, he heard it. Someone calling his name.

Callon perked up, hope returning. He listened intently, just to make sure that his ears hadn't been pulling tricks on him.

"_Callon! Callon, where are you?"_ He knew that voice.

"_Culdôr!"_ He never thought he'd be this happy to see his tutor. For a marchwarden, Culdôr was highly knowledgeable. He had been teaching Callon how to read and write for a few weeks now.

Like an answered prayer, Culdôr suddenly came crashing through the dense foliage like he was being chased by a pack of _yrch_. Culdôr looked around wildly, until his eyes rested on Callon. Before Culdôr could do anything, Callon raced over, threw his tiny arms around his mentor, and cried. Culdôr fell to his knees, holding the nearly hysterical elfling.

"Shhhhh. It's alright _penneth_, it's alright." Culdôr murmured gently, trying to console the child.

"My friend, he-he's hurt."

"What friend? Who are you talking-" Culdôr began, but stopped, numb with shock when he realized that there were carcasses littering the area. Callon pulled him over to the Nargothrondian.

"Is-is he okay?" Callon asked fearfully, hoping that the marchwarden had an answer.

"Ai, Valar…" Culdôr mumbled softly as he looked the Nargothrondian over. "I think so…" the terror in Callon's eyes seemed to evaporate. Culdôr quietly knelt beside the prone form, examining him. He then uncorked his water skin, and then carefully splashed some of the contents on the injured elf's face. Callon watched intently as the Nargothrondian stirred, and slowly regained consciousness.

"Wh-who are you?" He asked, looking around warily.

"A marchwarden of Doriath. I was sent to find Callon, and by the looks of things, we have you to thank for keeping him safe." Culdôr replied. "Who are you?"

"N-no one. An exile." Culdôr nodded cautiously. Although this elf had saved Callon's life, he still didn't know if he could be trusted.

"What's your name?"

"Mornar. Wh-what's yours?"

"Culdôr. Can you sit up?" Mornar grimaced as he attempted to pull himself into a sitting position. He gasped sharply in pain as he accidentally jostled his left leg. Culdôr quickly steadied him, carefully assessing the situation.

"Callon, run in the direction I came in, tell one of the Generals what happened, and let them know that I'm going to try getting Mornar over, but I may need help." He couldn't tell who's eyes got wider. Callon's or Mornar's.

"But Culdôr, wh-what about the _edain_?"

"They're in full retreat. It's safe for Callon to go, I promise."

"I'll be okay." Callon assured them, but both Culdôr and Mornar could see the doubt in his eyes. Mornar reached out to one of the carcasses with his good arm, and pulled a knife out of the _adan's_ neck, before wiping it off and handing it to Callon.

"Y-you may need it." He stated simply. Callon grinned a little, took the knife, and scurried off in the direction Culdôr came in. "He-he's a brave elfling. His parents must be p-proud of him."

"Aye, they are." Culdôr murmured quietly, his thoughts going to Daecrist, Eleithel, and Callon's happy family. He quickly snapped his attention back to Mornar. "We need to do something about that arrow." Culdôr said softly, indicating to the shaft embedded deeply in the swordman's leg. Mornar's eyes widened in fear.

"D-don't. It-it's barbed." Culdôr's eyes widened in return. Barbed arrows were considered inhumane in Doriath. They didn't even use them on orcs.

"Are you sure?" Culdôr stammered, praying that Mornar was mistaken.

"I-I'm positive." Mornar replied, with sad certainty shining in his eyes. "I-I pulled on it, a-and it-it…" he paused, breathing heavily, too tired to continue. Culdôr's mind was racing. Mornar was hurt far worse than he had originally thought. He needed medical attention, and fast.

"Don't try to talk." Culdôr said "Save your strength. We still need to try to get back."

"I-I'm sorry that I d-didn't say anything earlier I-I didn't want… want…"

"You didn't want to scare Callon." Culdôr finished gently. "Now, _please_ try to rest a little. You're going to need the strength to walk. You're a bit taller than I am, and I'm not strong enough to carry you. I'm… I'm afraid I'll only be able to assist you." Mornar nodded wearily in understanding.

"_H-hannon-le_." Mornar murmured softly before passing out again.

"_Perhaps that's for the best." _Culdôr thought to himself. "_I can do what needs to be done, and he won't feel a thing." _In order to help Mornar, he'd have to support him from his left side, so he wouldn't further injure the swordman's right shoulder. However, by doing so, he would bump against the arrow in Mornar's leg… unless he broke the shaft…

He dug through his first-aid kit, until he found what he was looking for. Then, he carefully shoved a handful of pain killing herbs into Mornar's mouth (in case he did feel it, and woke up). Culdôr pulled out one of his knives, and began to saw the shaft in half, as gently as possible. Mornar suddenly awoke with a start, his scream muffled. Culdôr quickly moved to restrain him.

"Mornar, it's alright! Just eat those herbs, okay?" the exile's pained violet eyes flickered slightly in recognition.

"E-Eru above," he spluttered, gagging slightly after choking down the herbs "what in Arda was that?!"

"Only the foulest tasting painkillers I could find, just for you, _mellon_." Culdôr replied with a smirk, as he finished sawing through the arrow.

"How very kind." Mornar replied dryly, unable to keep himself from returning Culdôr's grin. Culdôr looped Mornar's left arm over his shoulders, and hauled him to his feet. The Nargothrondian swayed slightly despite the support. After a few minutes however, he regained his balance. Culdôr sighed in relief.

"What?" Mornar asked.

"I cut the shaft correctly." Culdôr smiled. "I was afraid I messed it up. But thankfully, I didn't. It's short enough that I don't bash into it, but it's long enough so the healers can still remove it. Now, shall we get going?"

"Aye, let's make tracks." Slowly but surely, the pair carefully made their way through the woods.

* * *

Arafhind rubbed his temples, fighting off an oncoming headache. Things had gotten a bit better, this was true; the _edain_ had retreated and the medical team had gotten there, and were currently taking care of the injured marchwardens and soldiers. But there was still no sign of his _gwedyr_, Beleg, or Callon. And on top of all that, Ruscdîr seemed to be getting worse, Daecrist had gone delirious, and was constantly asking for Callon. Now, the cousins were keeping their General as calm as possible until a healer came over. But keeping a frantic parent calm is never easy.

"Wh-where's Callon?" Daecrist asked again, despite the fact that he had asked the same question about fifteen minutes ago.

"He… he's around… somewhere." Ruscdîr replied, giving Daecrist an encouraging smile, even though the unspoken 'I hope' hung in the air. Daecrist nodded slightly, and then relaxed.

"_Please let a healer come over. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease."_ Arafhind mentally begged. He didn't know how long he and Ruscdîr could keep Daecrist calm. Valar, he didn't even know how long it would be until Ruscdîr's strength failed him. "_It's just a matter of time."_ He realized as he noticed Ruscdîr sway slightly out of the corner of his eye, as Daecrist started getting restless. Suddenly, his prayers were answered, and a healer came racing over.

"Thank the Valar." He murmured.

* * *

Callon raced onwards, crashing through the brush and brambles, going in the direction Culdôr came in. Thanks to his mentor, he now knew which way help was.

"_And," _he mentally added "_I know which way Ada is."_ He made it to the clearing, hoping, praying that the first thing he'd see was his _Adar_. But the first thing he saw was General Amlug's unseeing eyes staring straight at him. Callon screamed, stumbling backwards in horror at the sight. A Cadet heard him and came racing over.

"Hey, it's alright!" the Cadet exclaimed as Callon attempted to run away in his terror. Callon sniffled, looking up at the Cadet's warm brown eyes. Amazingly, the Cadet was completely unscathed. "You're General Daecrist's _ion_, aren't you?"

"Yes." Callon whispered. The Cadet gave him a smile that seemed to say that everything would be fine.

"Well then, let's find him." Callon tiredly stumbled over to the Cadet, who scooped him up, and began to carry him away from the corpse. "So, what's your name, _penneth_?" Callon didn't know why, but there was something about this Cadet that made him feel safe. As if it wasn't this Cadet's first time carrying an elfling.

"Callon. What's your's?"

"Faron." the Cadet replied with a gentle smile. Callon rested his head against Faron's shoulder in exhaustion, allowing himself to relax a little.

Faron smiled slightly as Callon started to drift off to sleep.

"_He's so much like Alagos."_ he thought to himself as Callon's eyes finally closed.

* * *

Arafhind and Ruscdîr did their best to help the healer get Daecrist into a stretcher. The General bit his lip till he tasted blood. He would not cry out, he would not cry out, he would not…

Ruscdîr winced sympathetically. His friend was doing his very best to keep a brave face. They had been captured by orcs once. They were nearly broken by the experience. During the ordeal, Daecrist had admitted to him that he was afraid he wouldn't be able to watch Callon grow up. That he wouldn't be able to help Eleithel raise their infant child. That he was afraid for his family's future. Ruscdîr remembered that he had said that anyone would be frightened with a nervous laugh. That day was the first and only time he had ever heard Daecrist scream. After they had been rescued, the General had confided in his Lieutenant that he would never show weakness again.

Ruscdîr had a funny feeling that that oath would be broken today. He suddenly noticed Arafhind's eyes widen. Ruscdîr looked in the direction Arafhind was staring in and gasped.

A dark haired Cadet was coming their way… holding Callon.

Arafhind sprinted forward, leaving his cousin to the mercy of the healer.

"_Dear Valar, please let Callon be alright!"_ He mentally cried as he skidded in the grass to a halt.

"Callon! Is-is he…?"

"He's alright." The Cadet replied calmly. Arafhind sighed in utter relief. "He's just tired and scared." He said with a slight smile. "In short, he wants his _Adar_."

"And his _Adar _wants him." Arafhind said, indicating to Daecrist. Faron nodded.

"_Echuia_, _penneth_." He whispered softly, as he gently shook the sleepy elfling. "We found your father." As soon as Callon heard the word 'father', he was suddenly wide awake.

"_ADA!_"

Daecrist knew that voice. That sweet, loving voice. He quickly sat up in the stretcher, delirium vanishing as he ignored both the pain, as well as Ruscdîr and the healer's protests.

Where was Callon?

Daecrist was positive that he heard- _there!_

Before Daecrist knew what was happening, his _ion_ was in his arms, faster than he could say _jackknife_.

"_Ada!_ _Ada_, are you alright?!" Callon sobbed into his father's chest, clinging to him tightly. Daecrist didn't even care that tears were streaming down his own face, as he held his child close to him.

"I am now."

The soldiers and marchwardens gazed silently upon the sweet reunion. It was a strong reminder for them all that in troubled times like these, the importance of family and fellowship grows to a maximum. For when things go wrong, one can always find the light in the bonds of family and friendship.

* * *

**Wow, that took me a REALLY long time to post… sorry about that…**

**And I PROMISE that the next chapter will wrap up this battle, and that the next chap will be MUCH shorter. **

**Hope you all liked it! :)**

**(Elvish translations below:))**

_Adan _= man

_Edain _= men

_Penneth _= young one

_Mellon _= friend

_Mellon-nín_ = my friend

_Adar _= father

_Echuia_ = wake up

_Elleth_ = elf (female)

_Yrch_ = orcs

_Ellon_ = elf (male)

_Edhil_ = elves

_Mae govannen_ = well met (usually said as a greeting)

_Ellyn_ = elf (male ; plural)

_Ion_ = son

_Saes_ = please

_Goheno-nin _= forgive me

_Naneth_ = mother

_Hannon-le_ = thank you

_Fae_ = soul/spirit

_Iathrim_ = people of Doriath

_Erbraig-nín_ = my wild one

_Gwathel_ = sister

_Gwanûr_ = brother

_Edhel_ = elf

_Navaer_ = farewell (Sindarin) {_Namárië _is Quenya. _Márienna_ is another way to say "farewell" in Quenya. Huh. Who knew? I literally didn't know this until I looked it up in ambar-eldaron's Quenya-English dictionary. They have a Sindarin-English dictionary too. To be fair, I didn't even know that "farewell" in Sindarin was _navaer_ until I looked that up as well, lol. Highly recommend both dictionaries!}:)

_Hên_ = child

_Gwedyr_ = sworn brothers (_gwador_ is singular)

_Eryn_ = forest

_Ellith_ = elf (female ; plural)

_Ada_ = Dad/Daddy


End file.
